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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23527768">When Times are Dire</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/aibidil/pseuds/aibidil'>aibidil</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Becoming Grandparents, Character age: 50s, Direct action and civil disobedience, Drunkenness, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Falling In Love, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Minor Lavender Brown/Parvati Patil, Minor Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter, Mistletoe, Moving In Together, Parenting grown children, Political Harry Potter, Political resistance, Politician Draco Malfoy, Politics, Protest through clothing, Quitting the Aurors, Screen Reader Compatible, Screen Reader Friendly, Sharing a Bed, Wizarding Politics, Zoo, middle aged romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 15:09:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>73,460</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23527768</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/aibidil/pseuds/aibidil</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Magical Britain is screwed, and it's once again up to Harry to save it. This time, by marrying Draco Malfoy.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>338</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>643</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. PART ONE: Autumn 2035</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Howdy from quarantine! I have never posted a fic as a WIP before, but I decided to do it because I am craving the community of an ongoing project. At the time of posting the first chapter, it is not completely written (I have 10k words written, I expect it will be somewhere around 100k). I will update tags and warnings as I go on, and if I add anything that might be triggering later I'll make sure to note it in the chapter notes. This is a bit of an experiment for me, and will force me to take a step back from perfectionism (what if I want to change something later?!), but I will prevail.</p><p>I started writing this about a year ago—I came up with the premise to finagle a marriage-of-convenience story, but then it became a way to channel my political grief of the past four years. This is firmly a magical story, so the political issues happening in the background won't be exact real-world issues, but they will be fairly clear analogues of real-world issues.</p><p>Last note: I am an American and more familiar with US politics than UK politics. However, there is canonically very little information about the political system in the Harry Potter universe (it's not even clear how/whether the Minister of Magic is elected, or who passes laws [i.e. is the Wizengamot a combined judiciary/legislature?]), so I am taking that lack of canon information as carte blanche to make up whatever I want. It will probably look closer to a US system, but please for the love of god do not try to britsplain politics to me. It's fairly likely from the books that the magical political system does not have a straightforward UK-type parliament, anyway.</p><p>I'm not sure how often I'll be able to update! I'll try to keep it fairly regular, as that will be good for me during this lockdown. I'm sure your comments will inspire continued writing, too. &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry glared at the mountain of paperwork on his desk, then looked forlornly out the window. It was dark out, and he was grumpy. On top of everything else, he hadn't even seen the sun today. The artificial sunlight that came through the charmed Ministry windows, which were actually underground, didn't count.</p><p>He wanted to go home. He never should have let himself get involved with this bloody election. He'd been spending all his free time campaigning for Penelope, and now the unthinkable had happened: Norris Rump had been elected, and Harry's backlog of work was all for nought.</p><p>He could not <i>believe </i>that people had actually voted for that man. Harry Potter, after fifty-five years of believing in the power of love to do things like defeat Voldemort, may have finally hit the last straw of his belief in fundamental human goodness.</p><p>The door to his office flew open; Harry looked up, frowning. He'd told Jorgen to go home an hour ago.</p><p>It was Draco.</p><p>"Oh, it's you," Harry sighed. "Come in, then. I'm not sure what the appropriate greeting is after those election returns. 'Bad evening'? 'Fuck this shit'? 'The earth is screwed'?"</p><p>Draco strode in and flopped elegantly in one of the armchairs in front of Harry's desk, his robes billowing around him. "How about, 'Can I offer you a drink'?"</p><p>Harry snorted and Summoned a bottle of whiskey from the side of the room. He knew Draco liked this particular whiskey because the first time Harry'd tasted it, it had been a gift from Draco. It was awkward, this whole combining-of-families-for-holidays thing—you had to buy a gift for your in-laws, and really, how did you buy a Christmas gift for your childhood enemy turned in-law? Whiskey was a good bet.</p><p>The things parents did for their children. </p><p>Harry poured Draco a whiskey and pushed the glass across the desk. "What are you doing here? I thought you would be with Hermione at the Lab-Mag headquarters."</p><p>"I was," Draco said, taking a sip of whiskey. "Hermione and I were talking all day. Give me one minute to figure out how to say this without freaking you out." He closed his eyes, almost like he was trying to do a micro-meditation.</p><p>"Oi!" Harry said, tempted to crumple a paper and throw it at the git's head. "What's the matter? Is something wrong with Albus? Or Scorpius?" </p><p>Draco's eyes flew open. "What? No! They're fine. I think. I haven't spoken to them in a few days, have you?" He narrowed his eyes. "What aren't you telling me?"</p><p>"No, they're fine," Harry said, then frowned. "I think. We can check later, when we're done talking."</p><p>"Yes," Draco said, seeming to remember that he wasn't here to talk about their sons. He took another sip of whiskey. "Let me say what I have to say without interruption. Can you manage that?"</p><p>Harry rolled his eyes. There was no malice in Draco's words the way there would've been decades ago. "Yes, get on with it."</p><p>"Alright," Draco said slowly. "The matter at hand is this: I'm going to bid for the Ministerial election in four years. I know you understand the political situation well enough to know why I am a good candidate. The Blimps are a complete disaster. They're terrible on social issues, despicable on queer rights, detestable on treatment of all social minorities; they are confused on fiscal policy, backward on immigration, wand-happy on defense, and contemptible on international diplomacy both Muggle and magical. They have the backing of the pure-blood traditionalists—and the right-wing Blimps more generally—only because they're scared and their xenophobic fears have been stoked by Rump and the rest of them."</p><p>Harry pinched his nose. "I've literally been campaigning for Penelope non-stop on these very issues, Draco; I know."</p><p>"I'm just trying to remind you of the stakes, Harry!" Draco said, his foot tapping in either annoyance or anxiety—Harry couldn't tell which. He only knew the foot tapping was a bad sign. The last time he'd seen Draco's foot tapping like that had been three days before Albus and Scorpius's wedding. </p><p>"Yes, okay, I'm sorry," Harry placated. "Go on."</p><p>"I am in a unique position," Draco continued. "Unlike Penelope Clearwater, I don't strike right-leaning voters as a radical choice. I come from a pure-blood family, I have pure-blood training, my parents have always voted Blimp, and I have two decades of history as a reasonable but firm left-centrist. I was a Death Eater, for Merlin's sake. If you put <i>me</i> up against Rump, it would make him look insane. I would be the logical choice for candidate."</p><p>"You have my vote," Harry said. "Now can you get out so I can finish this pile of work and maybe get home before tomorrow is today?"</p><p>Draco pressed his lips together.</p><p>"You have something to ask me," Harry said wearily. "Look, you know I'll do what I can as head of DMLE; you know how much I've done these past months. I'm devastated that Penelope lost. But can you give me like a week to catch my breath before I start worrying about the next one? The last election has been over for like five minutes. I'm exhausted."</p><p>The foot tapped. Harry noticed that Draco's shoes were nice—shiny, but not pretentious. There seemed to be adequate toe space—one of Harry's main fashion pet peeves was shoes without adequate toe space. Even an Undetectable Extension wasn't ideal for foot health.</p><p>"I'm not interested in how you can help as the head of DMLE," Draco finally said. "The problem is that I am a bachelor."</p><p>Harry snorted, staring at  Draco and wondering what that had to do with anything.  "Yes, I seem to remember stock in the <i>Daily Prophet</i> going up when each of our divorces were announced. What of it, Draco?"</p><p>"Voters won't vote for an unmarried candidate," Draco recited. "Statistics show that voters feel entitled to know about the Minister's personal life and that they would worry about how dating would affect a Minister's ability to perform their duties. Even if I were to swear up and down that I wasn't interested in dating, voters wouldn't believe me. They already know I'm gay—and despite the fact that I'm open to dating a woman again even if it hasn't happened yet and am therefore technically bi, people persist in their views—and we've never had an openly gay Minister. An openly gay <i>bachelor</i>? Can you imagine what Rump would say? He'd probably convince the voters I would install glory holes in the Ministry loos."</p><p>Harry laughed in despair. "Fuck, I wish I couldn't imagine that happening, but after the last couple months I am sure you're not even exaggerating. So, what? You want my help finding a husband? If you haven't noticed, I haven't had much luck on that front, myself. I don't really think I'm the person to ask. Hermione would probably have ideas. Or worse comes to worst, tell Scorpius and Al that you need to get married; you know how they love a project."</p><p>"I <i>have</i> noticed that you're hopeless at dating. Hapless, even. Hopeless and hapless." Draco raised his glass and tipped it back, finishing off the amber liquid. "Harry, I'm suggesting <i>you</i>. I'm suggesting that you and I get married. It will solve all our problems, and it won't even be a big inconvenience. All we'd have to do is live together; and I have a five-story townhome. We'd never even have to see each other! I'd get elected, and you'd have my ear and I would do everything I could for all of your pet issues. We're already family because of the boys, and neither one of us has time to date. Neither one of us <i>can </i>date, because we," he pointed with a flourish at Harry and then at himself, "are too damn famous and infamous." He paused and narrowed his eyes. "And don't look at me like that—you <i>know </i>it's true! The last time you had a date you were in a bad mood for <i>weeks </i>because of the press. Even if you got laid that day, which for the record I don't think you did, it was definitely outweighed by the weeks of misery that followed." He paused, glaring at Harry, as if daring him to challenge his version of events. "And it's the same for me. You and I are completely screwed in the dating department. We may as well throw in the towel and embrace a marriage of convenience."</p><p>Harry stared at him, mouth opening and closing uselessly as he ran through all the different objections with which he might start his response to this cockamamie proposal.</p><p>"And if you're not fully comprehending the <i>incredible</i> convenience it would be," Draco said, leaning forward, "if the two of us were married and I ran for Minister, I would win. Without a doubt. And you would be able to pass any reforms you wanted, because I would push it through." Draco frowned. "Well, within reason. I still don't agree with you about the banning of cockatrice hunting on one's private lands."</p><p>"Are you insane?!" Harry spluttered, finally interrupting. "Why am I asking that—yes, the answer is yes, you're clearly insane. Draco, the next election is <i>four years away. </i>You want us to pretend to be married for <i>four years</i>?!"</p><p>"You weren't listening," Draco snapped, apparently annoyed at Harry's reaction. His foot was still, and Harry tucked away the observation that the foot tapping must indicate anxiety, not anger. "If we do this, I will <i>win. </i>You and I—<i>we</i>—will win. I'm suggesting we get married for at least eight years, perhaps twelve. And it won't be <i>pretending</i> to be married. The marriage would be as real as a house-elf's third nipple." Harry grimaced. "We would merely be pretending to be <i>in love</i>."</p><p>"For <i>twelve years</i>!" Harry shouted. "If we adopted a Kneazle, it'd die of old age before we could stop the charade. Everywhere we go. In front of the entire nation. For twelve years."</p><p>Draco's face twisted into pitying derision. "Kneazles often live well into their thirties, Potter. If you're going to use facts to try to make me look like an idiot, you should keep in mind that I am a solicitor and a <i>politician </i>and you should fact-check yourself before you try it. If we adopted a Kneazle and got divorced after I left office, we would certainly need to arrange custody of the feline."</p><p>"I don't even like Kneazles!" Harry sighed, running a hand over his face. </p><p>"You're the one who brought them up!" Draco's hand flew into the air dramatically, and Harry had a vivid impression of him on the floor of the Wizengamot, the way he always argued deftly and logically, the way he made his opponents look like morons of the highest degree.</p><p>Harry realised, suddenly, that if Draco had been running in Penelope's place, he would've won. </p><p>If he were married.</p><p>"Harry, forget the Kneazles. This isn't about Kneazles. In four years time, who knows what Rump will manage to fuck up. The stakes are incredibly high. And truly—would living together be so bad? We both live alone; you know as well as I do that it's lonely as fuck. And if Al and Scorpius are successful in adopting a baby, and they have to split their grandparent time between all our different homes, and you and I live together? Well," Draco raised his palms. "We just doubled our grandfather time."</p><p>"That is unfair!" Harry said, pointing a finger. "You can't bring the baby into this! You know I want that baby!"</p><p>Draco grinned. "Come now, Harry, I know you can't possibly be thinking more of time with your grandbaby than you are about the state of Magical Britain." The smile fell from Draco's face. "It really will be a fucking mess after four years, Harry. Rump could ban fertility treatments for gay couples. You know he's been talking circles around that. He could privatise St Mungo's. And who else could run? You know how hard we looked before deciding on Penelope."</p><p>Draco was right. Fuck it all to hell, Draco was right. </p><p>Draco's face split into a slow grin. "You just realised I'm right. I saw it in your face."</p><p>"Completely separate storeys of the house," Harry said, deflating into his chair. "And I'm not eating that fucking keto diet. And we can't have any un-unionised elves."</p><p>"Do I look like an idiot?" Draco said. "I have never employed an un-unionised elf. Can you imagine the political scandal?"</p><p>"Right," Harry said, and sighed. "Fine. But if I fall in love with someone, we're cutting it off. No questions asked."</p><p>Draco grinned and held his hands wide. "No questions asked."</p><p>"Draco," Harry started, then stopped. "Don't you—I mean, aren't you worried that <i>you'll</i> fall in love with someone, but be stuck with me…for politics?"</p><p>Draco met Harry's eyes. Harry had always been able to read those grey eyes pretty well, and right now he saw nothing but resignation. "I'm never going to fall in love, so it's a moot point."</p><p>Harry wanted to ask how he could be so sure, but it didn't seem his place. "Moot. Okay." He sighed.</p><p>The clock ticked as Draco waited for Harry to respond. He looked like he was restraining himself from talking, trying to give Harry some space.</p><p>Harry mentally replayed the conversation—trying to make sure he wasn't missing anything, any gaps in Draco's logic. "Have you talked about this with Hermione?"</p><p>Draco nodded. "Well, not exactly. She just said that I would've won because I don't scare the moderates like Penny did. And then she added, 'If you were married to someone respectable, of course.'"</p><p>"Ugh," Harry groaned. "Fine. I can't believe I'm going to marry you. What a crock of shit." Draco's mouth split into a tentative smile that grew wider every second. "This is what the ancient philosophers meant when they said that duty comes before pleasure. Here, we need to drink more." Harry poured more whiskey in their glasses.</p><p>"Say congratulations to the next Minister of Magic, husband," Draco said, face lit up with a smile, and clinked Harry's glass.</p><p>
  <span class="font-white">...</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span class="font-white">...</span>
</p><p>When Harry awoke the next morning, his body felt heavy and his eyes drooped. He had no desire to get out of his warm bed.</p><p>That thought only lasted a moment, because his second thought was about yesterday's election. Rump had <i>won</i>.</p><p>Harry jolted up in bed, heart pounding. He honestly couldn't believe it. They'd all been so sure that Penelope would win. The polls had all showed—</p><p>Well, fuck. </p><p>His third thought was that he'd agreed to marry Draco bloody Malfoy. To save Magical Britain.</p><p>Harry let himself flop back onto his pillows, looking up at the ceiling that, shortly after moving in, he'd charmed to mimic the sky, like the Great Hall. He'd also charmed his room to play the sounds of an English forest. It helped to keep him balanced, despite living in London, despite having a desk job that, more often than not, became awfully political.</p><p>Harry Potter, it seemed, would never be through saving the world.</p><p>Granted, marrying Draco would be a bit more pleasant than dying by Voldemort's hand. At least, he was 99 percent sure it would be.</p><p>In this quagmire of personal and political despondence, Harry attempted to concentrate on the sounds of nature, to look at the clouds drifting across his ceiling. He was fairly certain he'd succeeded at calming himself down a bit, but then he heard his phone buzz and his heart rate quickly returned to previous levels.</p><p>He grabbed his wand off the side table and Summoned his phone. It had taken him awhile, after receiving the phone as a gift from James a decade or so ago ("Because <i>honestly </i>Dad, I'm not keeping an owl. Do you know how outdated that is? Not to mention, my girlfriend thinks it's animal abuse and I really can't, okay?") to learn how to successfully Summon the phone off its charger, rather than accidentally Summoning the entire cord and plug or, alternately, causing the phone to shoot towards him but then reach the end of its tether and slam down on the chest of drawers. (It was Albus who'd told him in no uncertain terms that he shouldn't keep the charger directly by the bed because who knew if there were electromagnetic frequencies or something? And how would they know if it could affect the magical core?)</p><p>His lock screen swarmed with notifications. <i>Norris Rump Becomes Minister in Surprise Victory! </i>screamed the Prophet app. <i>Penelope Clearwater Defeated Despite High Turnout! </i>shouted the <i>Witch's Mail. </i>A text from Lily: "Dad, tell me how to fill out an application to transfer to MACUSA. I am not even joking. I can't stay here. I just keep looking at people and thinking, 'you voted for R*mp, didn't you? And you!'" And from Albus, a string of skull emojis.</p><p>Harry refused to open his digital owlmail until he'd had a cup of coffee or three. It was not a good day to be the head of Magical Law Enforcement in Britain. There were sure to be celebrations by Rump supporters and protests by angry, sad, and disillusioned leftists. Hell, if it weren't Harry's job to keep the streets of Diagon and other magical places safe and clear, he'd join the protests.</p><p>There was also a text from Draco: "Lunch to discuss details? I made us a reservation at the Gilded Thistle at noon, but can change it if need be. Dress for business, please, as we need to discuss slow implementation of our business plan."</p><p>Harry read it three times. It was such a <i>Draco </i>message. Straight to the point, but sufficiently vague that if it were ever intercepted it couldn't be used against either of them. What did he think Harry would show up in—jeans? Leggings? Of course Harry would dress for business!</p><p>"That's fine," Harry replied. "I hate you"</p><p>After a moment, three dots appeared to indicate Draco's impending message. "Beautiful; see you then."</p><p>Harry sighed. Could he really marry someone who used full stops and semi-colons in casual texts?</p><p>A Prophet notification appeared on his screen. "Dennis Creevey, head of the Magical Civil Liberties Union, expresses concerns for the rights of foreign witches and wizards currently residing on British soil, and urges citizens to oppose the implementation of widespread Spell Tracking, arguing it will be used to discriminate against those with non-British magical education."</p><p>Harry knew the answer was <i>yes</i>. He'd have to overlook the full stops.</p><p>Breakfast was a numb affair, as Harry ignored his phone and refused to pick up the newspaper. He couldn't do that forever, but it hadn't even been twenty-four hours, and he damned well deserved a break from the news. </p><p>Work was quiet. Everyone nodded at him with facial expressions somewhere between what you'd expect when seeing someone whose loved one just died and what you'd expect from someone worried they were about to be wrongfully committed to the Janis Thickey Ward.</p><p>Harry suspected his face looked the same. </p><p>He spoke with the Head Auror, Persephone Diggle, and the outgoing Minister, Mallard Glass. He spoke with his secretary and the DMLE's on-staff Healer (who was worried about the effect of stress on everyone's magic). He didn't retain much from any of the conversations, though there wasn't much to retain. There was a lot of pabulum like, "What can you do?" and "We'll get through it," but none of it meant anything. Everyone was performing a script of how to act when the unspeakable happens, and Harry found himself struggling to act his lines.</p><p>At 11:50, the wooden lumberjack in the cuckoo clock on Harry's office wall popped out of his little door and announced, "Lunch with Draco Malfoy in ten minutes. Approximate travel time assuming Apparition and walking to and from the Apparition points, eight minutes." He swung his axe at a little wooden tree. The axe never felled the tree. Harry wondered if Wilhelm felt like Sisyphus, always swinging, never felling. Fucking hell, Harry's moroseness had extended to a existential questions about a clock.</p><p>"Thank you, Wilhelm." Harry looked at his desk, still covered with papers to deal with and messages to answer (and a newspaper with horrifying headlines to read), and hopped up out of his chair. "I'll go straight away."</p><p>Wilhelm frowned, his ginger wooden eyebrows slanting inward. "Is everything alright, Harry? You don't usually leave right away, if you don't mind my saying. And you forbid me alerting you early enough to ensure your punctuality."</p><p>"If I let you alert me in time to ensure my punctuality for every commitment," Harry said, pulling on his dress DMLE robes, "I'd never have a minute's peace. I'd never get any work done. What's the office scuttlebutt?"</p><p>Wilhelm was friendly with many of the magical objects in the building. He couldn't see anything except in this office (he couldn't travel the way portrait subjects could), but he could chat with other sentient objects in the building. He got the best gossip from the Head Unspeakable's charmed stapler. Harry'd never been clear on how the objects communicated; he wasn't sure anyone knew. In fact, he suspected that many of them had no idea what a security risk it was. Wizards never seemed to think through the wisdom of charming sentience into thousands of objects and then leaving them around a building like this. Mortimer Vance's stapler had loose lips; but Harry trusted Wilhelm with national security, and with, indeed, his own life.</p><p>Wilhelm knew <i>all </i>of Harry's appointments, rather than merely the ones he remembered to add to the Protean schedule he shared with his secretary. Wilhelm was charmed to be alerted every time Harry thought about something he had to do, from the insignificant (remembering to buy more tea) to the imperative (remembering to make it to the Wizengamot in time to testify in cases as an expert witness).</p><p>Harry should buy Wilhelm a nice little wooden dog for his clock or something. Wilhelm's life couldn't be an easy one. </p><p>"It's roughly as you'd expect, I reckon," Wilhelm informed. "Vance is upset because he thinks they'll lose funding."</p><p>"They will lose funding."</p><p>"The Healer liaison from St Mungo's was in to visit Smith—in tears, she was. Many of the Aurors seem happy enough, damn the traitorous fuckers."</p><p>Harry sighed. "Okay, I'm off to see Malfoy."</p><p>"Put the world to rights, will ye! Raise a pint for me, lad."</p><p>"I always do," Harry said, and made sure his office door had closed and warded behind him before walking briskly to the DMLE's Restricted Apparition Point. He was shown to the head of the queue (a pomp he hated, but no one wanted to wait in a queue with their boss, anyway), turned, and landed in one of the available stalls in Diagon's busy Apparition area. He walked quickly out of the way, not wanting to get trampled by the next arrival. Sure enough, no sooner than had he walked forward, a man wearing chartreuse robes appeared where he'd been.</p><p>Diagon was crowded, but somewhat quiet. Harry expected that most of the people here had voted for Penelope. While the righter, wealthier, older, pure-blood magical people tended to live in country estates, coming to Diagon to shop and occasionally to dine or partake of the theater, many of the younger and more liberal magical people lived right in Diagon. It was the most leftist district by vote.</p><p>Harry looked at his feet as he walked towards the restaurant, avoiding eye contact. He didn't want to think about the sadness on everyone's faces, and he especially didn't want to think about the undisguised glee on the face of the owner of Slug and Jiggers, who was bloody <i>whistling </i>as he shot cleaning spells at his windows.</p><p>He walked into the restaurant, the door clanking behind him, and offered a sad smile befitting the occasion to the hostess. "I'm meeting Draco Malfoy for lunch."</p><p>"Right this way, Mr Potter."</p><p>Draco, wearing a slim grey Muggle suit, was sat at a small table by the front window. His face was appropriately sad, a funeral face. Harry didn't know how authentically upset Draco was about Penelope's loss, or if it was an act—part of the whole political ploy. Sure, Draco didn't want Rump in charge, but he hadn't been a vocal supporter of Penelope's at first. He'd come around and worked on her campaign, but Harry knew Draco had been frustrated with how she did things. Draco's greying blond hair fell elegantly across his forehead, and Harry self-consciously rumpled his own as he dropped into the opposite seat.</p><p>"Scorpius called me in tears this morning," Draco said by way of greeting.</p><p>"I can't blame him." Harry reached for the water glass and took a long sip. "Did you remind him not to skip his meditation?"</p><p>"Yes." Draco sighed. "He thinks the adoption agency might stall same-sex adoptions because of uncertainty about the legality. In light of the election."</p><p>"I wish I could tell him it's an irrational fear, but…" Harry trailed off and looked around the restaurant, at the people on the street. "Did you request this table to be most visible? Is this part of your plan?" </p><p>Draco smirked. "I didn't have to. All I had to do was mention that I was expecting you and they put me here. No one will ever get tired of flaunting the Saviour's patronage."</p><p>Harry groaned. And he'd never stop being annoyed about it, no matter how many years had passed. In some ways his fame had only increased over time, as the papers reported all the details of his life, they solidified his place as a public figure. These days, he was just famous. He suspected most people under twenty didn't know <i>why </i>exactly he was famous, just that he was.</p><p>"So you want to make a plan?" Harry asked, leaning forward. "Is this what Slytherins do, secret plots? If it was up to me and Ron and Hermione, we'd probably just walk into the Ministry and start making out, plans be damned."</p><p>"All three of you?" Draco asked, raising a teasing eyebrow. "If you'd like to debate the merits of snogging in the Ministry, I'd be happy to. But in this arrangement we will only be taking action after careful deliberation, even if the action is ultimately designed to appear spontaneous."</p><p>Harry let out a long sigh. "I hate that kind of shit."</p><p>Draco took a sip of water. "You don't say? Knock me over with a Hippogriff feather."</p><p>Latching onto the idiom, Harry snapped, "Wouldn't take much to scare you where Hippogriffs are concerned."</p><p>Draco rolled his eyes, but then he leaned forward and met Harry's eyes. "I think the first step is to be seen together in public more often, like this. Until now, we've seen each other often enough, but it's usually in private."</p><p>"Okay," Harry agreed. </p><p>"Then we have to decide how we're going to break our relationship to the public. Presumably if we fell in love, we'd want to keep it secret for a while. We're both fairly private people, especially you, given your relationship with the press."</p><p>"Plus the fact that we'd be worried the papers would have a field day, considering our sons are married."</p><p>"True," Draco said. "So the question is, would our relationship be revealed accidentally, or because we decided to announce it?"</p><p>"I can't see us deciding to come clean on our own unless we were engaged and having a press release or something," Harry said, thinking. "But I am pretty impulsive, and I am known to rile you up, so I can also imagine us accidentally spilling the beans."</p><p>"What about this?" Draco started to ask, but then fell silent as a waiter approached the table.</p><p>"Gentlemen," he declared. "Are we ready to order?"</p><p>Harry knew that Draco hated when waitstaff used the royal we, and smiled as he looked down at his menu. "Yes, I'd like the burger."</p><p>"And I'll have a quiche with a side salad," Draco added.</p><p>The waiter left, and Draco picked up the paused conversation. "How about we do a few things to cause speculation, but just a tiny seed of speculation, and <i>then</i> we make an announcement?"</p><p>Harry wrinkled his nose. "How do we plant the <i>seed </i>of speculation?"</p><p>Draco leaned forward, amused. "Are you asking me to teach you how to flirt subtly, Potter?"</p><p>"No!"</p><p>"We stand too close to each other," Draco said, glittering with mischief—and Harry couldn't help but be relieved to see that look, as everyone had been looking so resigned since the election results. "I lean in and whisper something in your ear, and I'm just saying something like, 'Don't forget about tomorrow's dinner at Scorpius and Albus's,' but they'll assume I'm saying something lecherous because of the look on my face."</p><p>Harry blinked, unaccustomed to Draco looking at him like that.</p><p>Draco sat back. "Something like that, who knows." He waved his hand dismissively, as if he hadn't just leered at Harry. "If we do that, the papers will write something, right? But their scrutiny wouldn't be <i>too </i>intense because they're scared of you. So they would just vaguely speculate."</p><p>"And then when we made an announcement, it wouldn't be completely out of the blue?" Harry asked, trying to wrap his mind around this insanity.</p><p>"Precisely." Draco paused. "We need to let those little hints slip even to our families, so they'll believe it too."</p><p>The waiter arrived and placed a butterbeer in front of each of them. Draco smiled his thanks and turned a quelling look at Harry. "Before you say anything, yes, I know it's not keto and has a preposterous amount of sugar, but I refuse to let Rump turn me into an alcoholic and this seems like a more acceptable destructive impulse. I took the liberty of ordering one for you, too, because I figured you'd be all sad if I was drinking butterbeer and you didn't have one."</p><p>Harry laughed, a bright sound that drew glances from the people around them. He shut his mouth. "Thank you. So…my question is, who do we tell the truth to? The kids? Our ex-wives? Ron and Hermione? Your parents? It's hard to know, because once we tell one person we have to tell about a dozen."</p><p>Draco's mouth tightened, a tiny bit of butterbeer foam on his lip. "Too right. I don't like it, but I don't think we can tell anyone. Not even our kids." He sighed. "Because if we tell just our kids, that's four people, plus two partners of James or Lily's, plus Teddy because you'd feel guilty not treating him the same as your biological children, that's seven, plus if Teddy tells a partner that's eight."</p><p>Harry scowled, but he couldn't deny Draco's point. They told zero children or they told…eight. And that was assuming his kids wouldn't spill to their cousins. "We could probably tell Gin and Astoria, but…" He sighed. "Gin is actually the person I'd least want to tell about this. She'd be mad at me for giving up on finding The One, or something."</p><p>A <i>ding </i>sounded, and Harry and Draco each leaned back, taking their hands and elbows off the table just in time for their dishes to appear with a faint <i>pop!</i></p><p>Draco picked up his fork and stabbed a cherry tomato. "Quite right. I have no idea what Astoria would say, but I doubt it would be…strategic. And thank you kindly, but if we're to be married, you should know that I tell my parents exactly nothing. I make up information about my life to tell them, rather than ever telling them anything true. Sometimes I pull a memoir off the shelf, open to a random page, and whatever is there, I report to my parents as my recent news."</p><p>Harry tipped his head back and laughed. "Alright, fine. We tell no one. I don't like it, though." He sighed. "But how are we going to convince these people who know us so well  that <i>we're</i> a couple?"</p><p>Draco's eyes scanned Harry. "Yes, I agree with you, it won't be easy. We're just going to act the part. Close your eyes and pretend I'm…whomever it is you fancy." He paused and cocked his head with interest. "Whom <i>do </i>you fancy? What's your type, Harry Potter?"</p><p>Harry rolled his eyes. "What are you, fifteen? I don't have a <i>type</i>. I'm attracted to all sorts of people. Usually people who don't care what people think of them. And since you are literally a politician and your job is to care about what people think of you, that may be a struggle for me."</p><p>Draco dipped the point of his index finger in the butterbeer and flicked it at Harry's face.</p><p>Harry, unperturbed, stuck his tongue out to lick up the drop of sweet liquid on his upper lip.</p><p>"I'll have you know," Draco drawled, "I am a fucking <i>catch</i>. You have no idea how <i>lucky </i>you are. I do yoga and speak four languages and have tons of money."</p><p>"I don't need your money," Harry said, holding up one finger. "I only speak one language so I'm not sure why your being able to speak languages I don't understand would be considered a selling point." Two fingers. "And how does your doing yoga benefit me?"</p><p>Draco raised an eyebrow. "The fact that you just asked that question tells me that you're getting a better deal out of this farce of a relationship than I am."</p><p>Harry leaned forward, looking around at the people in the restaurant, and whispered, "Were we having sex, I suppose it might be relevant? Maybe? If you want to make stereotyped jokes about being able to get into various sex positions? But we did not agree to <i>have sex!</i>" By the end, Harry's voice had unintentionally risen in volume, and some of the people nearby seemed to be staring.</p><p>Draco leaned closer, over his quiche. "Looks like we're starting to plant the seeds right now. Good. All I'm saying is, yes, it might be difficult to pretend to be in love, especially at first when everyone expects us to be all lovey-dovey. But don't pretend that we're not both excellent catches. No one is making out poorly in this arrangement, and you can't convince me otherwise."</p><p>"Fine," Harry said, munching a chip. "You're fit enough for an old man; I'll give you that."</p><p>"I am fifty-five years old." Draco scowled. "I'm in my <i>prime.</i>" </p><p>Harry picked up his burger and took a large bite; sauce dripped down his chin and he reached for a napkin.</p><p>"The real problem," Draco said, using his knife and fork to cut his quiche, "is that you have never been able to disguise your face."</p><p>"What are you talking about?" Harry was excellent at Glamours.</p><p>"Whatever Harry Potter thinks, Harry Potter's face shows. Remember that time you had to be sent away from negotiations with the French Minister because you couldn't keep your face under control?"</p><p>"That was <i>one time!</i>" </p><p>"Regardless," Draco said, bringing his fork to his mouth, "I'm sure I'll have an easier time feigning interest than you. Which should work out well, because I'm so good-looking, it's not like you'll have to feign attraction."</p><p>"Vain son of a bellend," Harry murmured.</p><p>"I'll drink to that," Draco said, holding up his butterbeer for a toast.</p><p>Harry ignored him and took another bite of his burger. "We don't have to move in together yet, do we?"</p><p>"No," Draco said, "but if you want to come over and see about renovating the fourth floor to your taste, I'd be happy to call my designer. Or you can hire some Gryffindorish designer, if you like."</p><p>"I don't need a designer," Harry scoffed. "I just need your shit out of there so I can put mine in."</p><p>Draco sighed. "Fine. My bedroom is on the second floor, the third has the library and my office, the first floor is obviously the kitchen, dining, and sitting room."</p><p>"Draco. I have been there," Harry said. "Many times. I helped host an engagement party in your house."</p><p>"Well you haven't been upstairs much, have you?" Draco snapped. "I'm just trying to explain." A moment passed, and Draco pointed a finger at Harry. "And you may have helped <i>pay </i>for the engagement party, but you surely didn't do anything that falls under the heading of 'hosting'."</p><p>"You're such a snob."</p><p>"You're such a slob." Draco wiped his mouth delicately with his napkin. "So tomorrow let's go out somewhere visible again. Flourish and Blotts to browse the books? Out for a nightcap at the Drunken Cat? What do you fancy?"</p><p>Harry let his head fall back. "I fancy sitting on my ass, watching Quidditch, and whining about how the world is going to shit."</p><p>"How about we go to the Rowdy Growler? They show Quidditch in hologram, and we can still whine about the world going to shit. That's what pubs are for."</p><p>It was a compromise and Harry knew it. "Alright."</p><p>
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</p><p>Harry was not prepared for Draco to add him to a group text with Ron and Hermione the following week. If teenage Draco could see himself now! The surreal quality of the whole thing was tempered somewhat by Harry's eagerness to see Draco's reaction to the experience of Ron in a group text. Ron was the worst sort of group texter.</p><p>
  <i>Would you be interested in dinner at my place tomorrow evening, 7pm? Was hoping to have a post-mortem on the election, and Lorraine has been asking to make her favourite meat pie; she'd be delighted for the chance to feed a full table.</i>
</p><p>Harry would never get over the fact that Draco's unionised house-elf was named <i>Lorraine.</i></p><p>He dropped his phone on the kitchen counter and stared at his pantry, uncertain what he wanted to eat. Breakfast was such a chore. It didn't used to be, when he lived with Ginny and three kids. Well, back then it had been a chore in a different way—the monotony of food prep for demanding children, James always wanting meat and Albus demanding melon, Lily sneaking chocolate if you didn't find a way to work it into her breakfast. But the eating itself hadn't been a chore. Now, the eating felt like a chore. He could eat oatmeal again, he supposed. </p><p>As he grabbed a sachet of Orville's Oats (<i>Just Add Magic!)</i>, his phone buzzed. Shaking the sachet, he leaned over to look at his lock screen. </p><p>
  <i>Ron emphasized 'Would you be interested in dinner at my place …'</i>
</p><p>The thought of Draco's reaction to Ron's !! on his text made Harry happy enough to eat his sad oats and get on with his day. Even if he was sure that this dinner with Ron and Hermione would be a disaster.</p><p>On the other hand, convincing Ron and Hermione that he and Draco were a couple would be the biggest hurdle of this whole charade, so he had to concede it made sense to get the Snitch flying, as it were.</p><p>
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</p><p>Arrive at 6:45 so they see us together when they get here.</p><p>Harry sighed and stared at his closet. If he were trying to impress someone, what would he wear? Hermione would never believe he was developing a crush on Draco if he wore an old Gryffindor t-shirt that Lily had produced and sold as a fundraiser when she was in sixth year. </p><p>What had he worn the last time he went on a date? He couldn't even remember, and that seemed somewhat pitiful. How would he attract someone? He sent up a silent prayer to the ghost of Sirius, whom he always thought of as his fashion role model and whom he wished were here to help, and grabbed blindly for some garment that would usually seem too tight. That's how people dressed to attract others, wasn't it? He pulled the clothes on, refused to dwell on it, grabbed a bottle of wine and a bottle of the fancy mineral water Hermione liked, and disappeared into the Floo.</p><p>When the spinning stopped, Harry coughed and shouted, "Oi, Draco!"</p><p>Draco walked in wearing a slim dress shirt and a pair of elegant trousers. He looked markedly more Muggle than usual—he often wore Muggle clothes for work, but at home he usually wore casual robes. </p><p>"Here," Harry said, holding out the bottles. "Do I look okay?"</p><p>Draco raised an eyebrow. "That is definitely the first time you've ever asked me that. Yes, you look…normal, but trying a little? And that seems like what we're aiming for."</p><p>Harry smiled. "Excellent, because I don't fancy you charming my clothes." He walked to the sofa and flopped onto it. "Ugh. Work is unbearable with everyone talking about Rump."</p><p>"Mood," Draco said, sitting in the armchair opposite. He frowned. "Did I use that correctly? Is that what Albus is always saying?"</p><p>"I think so." Harry put his feet on Draco's table. "How's Scorpius?"</p><p>"He's complaining about how everyone keeps asking him how this will be written in the history books of the future."</p><p>Harry laughed. "Goes with the territory."</p><p>Scorpius was a magical historian. He taught classes sometimes, but more often wrote articles and books. Albus and Harry had been trying to convince him to write some history books meant for popular audiences.</p><p>Draco nodded, then asked, "Is there anything we need to coordinate before Ron and Hermione arrive?"</p><p>Harry frowned. "We're not saying anything to them today, so—nothing? I was planning to just like, linger."</p><p>"<i>Linger?</i>" Draco asked, unimpressed. "What do you mean?"</p><p>"Like, my eyes. My eyes should linger on you." This was awkward. Harry wondered if this was the most awkward he had ever felt, but he forced himself to look at Draco with what he hoped was an approximation of confidence.</p><p>"I suppose that'll do." Draco crossed one leg over the other. "I thought you meant you were going to linger around me, like leaning languidly nearby me."</p><p>"I was not planning to lean languidly." </p><p>"I meant, should we have a backstory?" Draco clarified. "I'm just thinking that it might be easier to coordinate in the long term if we plan ahead."</p><p>"They're going to be here in like three minutes," Harry said. "There's no time."</p><p>Draco held up a finger. "We hooked up in secret at a party at the Ministry a couple months ago."</p><p>"We don't have time to hash this out!" Harry interrupted. </p><p>"We hooked up in secret," Draco continued, "and we saw each other after in the course of our regular lives and it is currently in the process of slowly evolving into an actual relationship rather than just sex."</p><p>Harry wrinkled his nose. "Wait, what? Where are we meant to have hooked up at a Ministry party? In the loo? Because we're way too old for that."</p><p>"We're in our primes," Draco objected with a genuinely aghast expression. "In the loo or like, hidden in an alcove or something? Or in your office?"</p><p>"No way would I do that!" </p><p>"Potter," Draco sighed. "You're not thinking in the right mindset. You're trying to think rationally about whether you'd have sex, but if that had actually happened we would've been all swept away by the moment. It wouldn't have been rational."</p><p>"Draco, are you trying to tell me your masterful backstory is that we're fifty-five years old and we couldn't stop thinking with our dicks at a <i>work event</i>?"</p><p>"It's believable!" Draco snapped.</p><p>"Maybe for you!" Harry leaned forward. "I can't think of a more unsexy setting than a Ministry party. Getting it up while the Minister and all of my Aurors are in the next room is my idea of a nightmare."</p><p>"Oh for the love of…" Draco murmured. "Alright, so when I say we 'hooked up at a Ministry function', what I mean is that we left and fucked at one of our homes, in a bed, with no one else in the house. Is that better?"</p><p>"Yes, much. Ta."</p><p>Harry supposed he could work with that. Trying to decide what was'believable' about him conducting a secret relationship with Draco was a preposterous exercise, anyway.</p><p>The Floo whooshed.</p><p>"Don't fuck this up, Potter," Draco said, standing and striding towards the fireplace. "Hermione, Ron." He leaned forward to press a kiss to Hermione's cheek. Harry still found that strange, even after all this time—the way they worked together now, that they were all kind-of friends.</p><p>Hermione went to wrap Harry in a hug. "How are you two? I've been in a stupor. I still can't believe it."</p><p>"Same," Harry said—but that was a bit of a lie. This whole thing with Draco had been distracting him slightly from the Rump nightmare, which was a blessing, in a way.</p><p>"What would you like to drink?" Draco asked, taking their orders and walking towards the bar cart, putting his hand on Harry's lower back as he walked past.</p><p>Harry stiffened—Draco never touched him like that. They were really doing this. Harry looked at Hermione—wanting nothing more than to spill his guts about this situation he'd gotten himself into, but he couldn't. The only person he could discuss it with was Draco himself.</p><p>"Are you alright?" Ron squinted at him, a confused look on his face. </p><p>Shit. They should've practiced this whole routine on people who would be more easily fooled—it was expecting too much, starting with Ron and Hermione. They knew him too well. Harry didn't know how to react to Draco's hand lingering on his back, even though lingering had been <i>his </i>plan. Harry didn't know how to flirt back in a way that looked like he was trying <i>not </i>to flirt. He needed to act like he was flirting by accident while trying not to flirt. He couldn't do this!</p><p>Harry smiled. "Yeah, mate, I'm fine. Just upset about…you know, all of it."</p><p>Ron launched into a story about how Rose was reacting to the election, and Harry walked over to Draco to help him with the drinks. Harry supposed he could just imitate what Draco was doing. That'd be enough.</p><p>He put his hand on Draco's back, his pinky finger resting on Draco's belt. "How can I help?"</p><p>Draco turned toward him, catching his eye and raising an eyebrow slightly, out of Ron and Hermione's view. "This one is for Hermione."</p><p>Harry grabbed the lime fizz and, turning and letting his hand stay on Draco's back for a second too long, carried it back to Hermione. That was good, right? He thought he'd done okay. "Here you go, Mi."</p><p>"Thanks," she said, taking the drink and sitting in an armchair. "I talked with Penny today. She's doing alright, all things considered. She's going to take a holiday to try to recover from all the campaigning."</p><p>Draco joined them, Levitating three glasses. "A well-deserved break. She worked herself to the bone."</p><p>"So did all of you," Ron said, grabbing his glass out of the air. "Cheers."</p><p>"Whole lot of good it did," Harry grumped, taking a sip of the drink Draco had made him. </p><p>"It made a difference," Hermione said, leaning forward. "We got everyone talking about the issues. We made sure people were talking about how racist and xenophobic Rump is." She frowned. "I have to believe it made some difference."</p><p>Draco sat next to Harry on the sofa, and if it wasn't Harry's imagination, he sat closer than he normally would. "We did. Almost half the people voted for us, after all. Our message is out there."</p><p>"What do we do now?" Hermione asked, looking uncharacteristically lost. Harry understood how she felt.</p><p>"We take a break," Draco sighed. He was sat close enough for his arm to rest warmly against Harry's. "Nothing we can do, just now."</p><p>For most people, that was true—there was nothing to do just now. Activism and mobilisation and supporting vulnerable people would come soon enough, but not quite yet. It was a time of mourning, not of action.</p><p>In a way, Harry was lucky. There <i>was</i> something he could do, even now. He could plant the seed for his oldest friends to believe he was falling in love. Harry turned to look at Draco, caught his eye, and smiled.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Winter 2036</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Are you ready for this?" Draco asked, one leg crossed over the other, foot tapping in the air distractedly.</p><p>"Relax," Harry said, pointing his wand at his shirt and watching it tuck neatly into his trousers. "I'm not sure I'm ready, but I'm not <i>not </i>ready. It'll be fine. It's just our kids."</p><p>Draco's foot paused. "It's <i>just </i>our kids? Have you met our children, Potter? I haven't been able to pull the wool over Scorpius's eyes since he was about seven. I'm worried about convincing them. I don't think they'll just…believe us."</p><p>"They'll probably think it's a prank," Harry agreed. "Worse comes to worst, we'll just have to snog a bit to show them we're serious."</p><p>Draco blinked. "That is a <i>terrible</i> plan." He stood, crossing his arms and pacing slightly. "Is that how you planned all your Auror…raids and whatever it is Aurors do? Just, eh, worse comes to worst, it'll be fine, jump on in?"</p><p>Harry frowned. Obviously that <i>was</i> how he'd conducted his Auror career, much to the chagrin of his various bosses. "Yes." He thought for a moment. "Actually, I think that's how I killed Voldemort, too."</p><p>Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. "Good grief. They're going to rip us to shreds."</p><p>Harry was getting a bit annoyed at the continued hysterics. "This was your idea! Remember? Why did you propose it if you don't think we could handle it?"</p><p>Draco met his eye. "Because I'm not worried about the paper, or the public, or even really about the election. But our children? I…I fucking forgot to factor in who <i>our </i>children are."</p><p>He had a point, honestly. But long odds had never stopped Harry before. Draco needed to get it together. Harry walked up to Draco, grabbed him by the shoulders, and gave him a little shake. "Pull it together, Malfoy. It's just our kids. We used to wipe their arses."</p><p>"I used spells for that, Potter." Draco met his eyes; they were standing very close.</p><p>Harry rolled his eyes. "We're doing this to save Magical Britain, remember? Snog Harry Potter, save the world."</p><p>Draco opened his mouth to utter what was sure to be a protest, so Harry leaned forward and kissed him, a big, loud peck on the lips. </p><p>Draco jolted away. "What are you doing?"</p><p>"Do you want our first time kissing to be in front of all our children as we try to convince them that we fell in love?"</p><p>Draco inclined his head, conceding Harry's point, and returned Harry's peck with one of his own. The smell of him—which Harry was fairly well acquainted with, given how often he'd been to Draco's house and how much time they'd spent together over the years—seemed strange from this close. Or, not strange but out of the ordinary.</p><p>It had been so long since Harry had been close to someone like this, and he was surprised by how much he'd missed it. </p><p>"Dad!"</p><p>At Scorpius's voice, Harry jumped backward, away from Draco, eyes wide. Draco's cheeks were red and Harry covered a laugh. "Erm." He cleared his throat. "Wouldn't want our kids to catch us at it before we have a chance to tell them of our secret love affair."</p><p>Draco raised an eyebrow in his usual, teasing way, though he looked a bit taken aback. "Hah. Right. Well. We'll just, er." He pointed at the sitting room, and Harry laughed, unaccustomed to seeing Draco so wrong-footed.</p><p>Harry followed Draco out of the room. "If a kiss stops all your pretentious talking, maybe I should've done it years ago."</p><p>"Oh for Merlin's sake, Potter," Draco sighed, turning the corner into the sitting room. "Scorpius!"</p><p>And then Harry was distracted by Albus's arm around his shoulders. Time to put on his dad hat, time to listen to Albus talking about one of his students named Laurence and how annoyed Albus was by Laurence's dad's lack of enthusiasm about his son's progress. </p><p>Having adult children was a trip—they were self-sufficient, but they somehow retained their need to complain to him about everything. Like nothing bad could possibly have happened to them unless they related it to one or both of their parents. Harry found it charming. He wished he had someone who would always listen to his whinging.</p><p>As the other kids arrived, Harry glanced at Draco, wondering whether they were ready for this. Over the past couple months, they'd had regular meetings in public. Enough to cause speculation in the Prophet about the frequency of their meetings. The headline <i>Malfoy Ousts Weasley as Potter BFF? </i> had been Harry's personal favourite.</p><p>Lily arrived with her boyfriend Nico, at whom Harry couldn't suppress a bit of an eye roll. The bloke was insufferable, always prattling on about things like gut health and coffee machines. Harry kept thinking Lily would come to her senses. Draco kept telling him that Nico was clearly just nervous, intimidated by his girlfriend's very famous father, but Harry thought this was no excuse for Nico's tedium, especially since Harry was always perfectly nice and welcoming.</p><p>Before long, his thoughts were pulled away from Nico and they were all settled in Draco's large sitting room. Albus had removed all the scatter pillows from the sofa and was sitting on one on the floor, leaning back on Scorpius's knees. Nico was talking to Teddy (about something called Ujjayi breathing?), and James and Lily were laughing as they cast bubbles at each other.</p><p>Draco took a seat next to Harry; their knees bumped together. "You're probably all wondering why we invited you here tonight, when there's not even a birthday or holiday."</p><p>Scorpius's mouth twisted in a concerned way. "I think we all assume you're going to tell us you're planning to run for Minister in the next election, to prepare us for the press."</p><p>Well, shit. Harry turned to Draco; Draco blinked. "No. Although I suppose I haven't ruled it out. It's too far away to start planning for that. No, what we have to say is…of a personal nature."</p><p>"'We'?" James asked, looking between Harry and Draco with confusion. "Is something wrong?"</p><p>"Your father and I," Draco began, and Harry tried to suppress a cringe. "Harry and I are—"</p><p>Harry reached out and grabbed Draco's hand, threading their fingers together. "We're together."</p><p>A silence descended. All four of their children plus Nico stared back with open mouths. </p><p>James, unsurprisingly, was the first to speak. "When you say <i>together</i>…you mean…fucking?"</p><p>"James!" Harry reprimanded, as if the strangest thing in this situation was his son's crassness.</p><p>"I'm sorry, Dad," Albus put in, his face pale, "but as much as I don't want to hear the answer, you're going to have to answer James's question, because my brain is going 'does not compute, does not compute'."</p><p>Nico, eyes flitting between each person in the room, looked like he was about to have an aneurysm.</p><p>"Yes," Draco said, "thank you for that, Albus. Yes, we're together. <i>Together." </i>He imbued the word with meaning, but his hand shook slightly in Harry's.</p><p>Harry squeezed it. "Sexually," he confirmed, trying not to form a mental image of it. It was the first time in his life he'd ever lied about having had sex with someone. All those times during adolescence when the other boys were claiming all sorts of apocryphal conquests, Harry never joined in. He couldn't believe he was breaking his streak now, at age fifty-five.</p><p>"But," Teddy stammered, leaning forward, "but <i>how</i>?! You've known each other for four decades, how on earth could that happen <i>now</i>?"</p><p>"Well," Draco said, turning to Harry with an odd look on his face that Harry supposed was meant to look smitten, "it happened at a Ministry function a few months ago."</p><p>"Alright," Lily said and clapped her hands decisively. "You've had your little fun. Now's the part where you laugh and we all guffaw about your prank."</p><p>"We're not joking, Lils." Harry hated lying to his kids. But he and Draco really were going to get married; was it even a lie at this point? "It's serious."</p><p>"It's serious," Lily deadpanned. She still didn't seem to believe it.</p><p>"Do you think we'd tell you if it wasn't?" Draco asked, tugging his hand that was still clasped with Harry's farther onto his lap.</p><p>"Dad." Scorpius clenched his fingers on the arm of the sofa. "You can't just…if you two break up, Albus and I will still be married. You two will still be <i>in-laws.</i> This isn't something you can just like, try on for fun."</p><p>Draco tensed before he spoke. "I'll thank you to give me the benefit of the doubt, Scorpius. I'm well aware of the implications."</p><p>Harry felt an urge to defend Draco, but, not wanting to screw this up, he ran it through his mind first—is that what he would do if he were in love with Draco? Seemed likely. "Look, I know it's hard to believe," Harry said, concentrating his attention on Albus and Scorpius, who surely had the most reason to be upset about this. "And we're sorry if this causes any of you grief or worry. But it's really our concern, not yours."</p><p>"That's right," Draco said. "We deserve to be happy. Merlin knows Harry has spent enough of his life in service to others. It's high time he put himself first."</p><p>"And Draco has spent his adult life doing good work in the Wizengamot, despite everyone treating him like crap when he first started," Harry added. "He's right—we deserve to be happy."</p><p>Draco glared at Harry. "Thanks for bringing up my adolescence there by adding the qualifier 'his <i>adult</i> life'."</p><p>Harry rolled his eyes. "If you think I'm just going to pretend that never happened, you've got another thing coming. I plan to bring up what a prat you were back then as often as possible."</p><p>Teddy whispered, "This is so weird."</p><p>"Wait, what do you mean 'at a Ministry function'?" James asked loudly, almost bouncing in his seat. "You're not saying you hooked up at the <i>Ministry</i>?!"</p><p>Harry rolled his eyes. "No, not <i>at</i> the Ministry, James."</p><p>"Your father thinks we're too old for that," Draco added unhelpfully.</p><p>Harry, incredulously, turned to him. "Can we not talk about this right now?"</p><p>Draco waved a careless hand. "They're all adults, Potter."</p><p>"Still! No one is ever old enough to hear about their parent's sex life."</p><p>"Hear, hear," Albus murmured from the floor.</p><p>"You just don't want them to know how prudish you are, refusing to snog in the Ministry loo. We're young. Vital!"</p><p>"Excuse me!" Harry said, in disbelief that Draco was saying any of this when they had never hooked up—not once, at the Ministry or otherwise. "I'm not a prude! But shut your mouth about it in front of my kids!"</p><p>Draco turned towards Harry. "You wanna prove it? Let's Floo to the Ministry. If you snog me anywhere in the building, I'll take it back and never call you prude again."</p><p>Was Draco actually arguing about whether their hypothetically in-love selves would hook up in the Ministry? Or was this all an act to convince the kids?</p><p>Before Harry could respond, Teddy burst out laughing. When all eyes in the room turned to him, he started laughing harder. "I'm sorry—it's just—oh, Merlin." He pushed his curly turquoise hair out of his eyes. "It's just—I suddenly get it. You two. Together."</p><p>Scorpius started laughing too, and Draco frowned. "What?" Draco asked. "I mean, yes, thank you for believing us, but it isn't <i>funny</i>."</p><p>"I don't understand," Lily said, turning to look at Nico, then back at Harry and Draco. "I mean, Dad, you once told me you couldn't date someone because they didn't like David Bowie, and no offense Draco, but you have the <i>worst</i> taste in music. You probably don't even know who David Bowie is."</p><p>Lily had a point. And Harry <i>had</i> dumped that woman for hitting the track forward button on "Rebel, Rebel." He was just about to open his mouth to offer a life lesson about how love wasn't necessarily principled when Draco spoke up.</p><p>"I'm stepping through the door," Draco said, leaning toward Lily in a gentle challenge. "And I'm floating in a most peculiar way, and the stars look very different today."</p><p>Harry laughed delightedly, too busy watching Draco to catch Lily's reaction.</p><p>"But—" Lily started.</p><p>"For here am I sitting in a tin can, far above the world." Draco grinned widely now, apparently delighted that he could meet Lily's challenge.</p><p>"Alright, alright," Harry interrupted, nudging Draco with his elbow. "You've made your point."</p><p>There was a long silence.</p><p>"Well," James said. "At least this has been more entertaining than talking about politics, which is all anyone ever seems to do these days."</p><p>To James's disappointment, that got everyone talking about politics. Scorpius was upset about some rumours he'd heard about Rump and policies on foreign spells. And Lily, who had clearly not yet processed Rump's election, launched into a rant about her disbelief about it all that each of them must have heard at least twenty times by now. </p><p>But the strange thing was that the kids stopped asking about Harry and Draco's new "relationship." It had worked—they believed it. At least, Harry thought it had worked. He was sure they'd have more questions and concerns about it in the coming weeks and months, but ultimately they all believed that Harry and Draco were in a relationship. That they were <i>fucking.</i></p><p>Harry looked at Draco. Was it really that easy to believe?</p><p>After all the kids had left, Harry flopped into an armchair, exhausted from the pressure of getting that right. "Now we need to tell Ginny and Astoria. And you need to tell your parents, I guess."</p><p>Draco sat across from him, crossing his legs. "And Ron and Hermione."</p><p>"Right," Harry said, not relishing the thought. He sighed. "I kind of can't believe the kids believed us."</p><p>"Of course they believed us," Draco replied. "We're very clever and convincing."</p><p>Harry looked up at the lighting fixture. "It just feels real now, you know? If the kids know, it's real."</p><p>"I suppose." Draco pushed his grey-blond hair off his face. "This isn't going to hurt Scorpius and Albus, is it? They'll be alright?"</p><p>"They can handle anything," Harry said. "I'd be more worried about myself, to be honest."</p><p>Draco scoffed. "Harry, you saved the world when you were one and again when you were seventeen. I'm pretty sure we can handle anything too."</p><p>"Ugh." Harry shuddered. "We <i>can</i> handle anything; the war taught us that. Doesn't mean I want to. Doesn't mean we'd do it with any grace."</p><p>"You never do anything with grace," Draco teased. "But that's okay now that you're with me, because I have enough grace for both of us."</p><p>"Yeah, sure. You do realise that I've known you long enough that you can't pretend to have always been suave. I remember when you made badges that said POTTER STINKS and climbed trees to try to intimidate me. Everything you do is graceful, my arse."</p><p>"Oh, shut up," Draco grinned.</p><p>
  <span class="font-white">...</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span class="font-white">...</span>
</p><p>Research reports prepared by his underlings littered the desk, and even though he'd outsourced that work, Harry was still pulling his hair out. He needed to draft a policy paper on racial and ethnic profiling in the DMLE, and it was the exact kind of work he hated—detailed, academic, research-heavy, and high-stakes. It was worse than writing an O.W.L.</p><p>There had been a case a few months back in which a magical law enforcement officer named Dimitri York had detained a woman named Asmaa el-Sabir for "suspicious spellwork," at which point he had checked her wand. The spell she had just cast was a Vision Clarity spell taught to young magical people in schools in the Middle East, which, though unfamiliar to York, was perfectly benign. The Priori Incantatem, however, had also shown evidence that the woman had cast a spell to hide her magical signature while buying restricted potions ingredients—a punishable offense. El-Sabir had argued that the evidence couldn't be used against her because it had been obtained through racial profiling. Memory evidence from Magical Law Enforcement Officer York had suggested that his detention of el-Sabir was motivated by her "foreign" appearance and her "non-traditional" spell. The Wizengamot Ethics Committee agreed that the Priori Incantatem evidence needed to be thrown out, having been obtained unlawfully. </p><p>All of which was to say that it had been a nightmare for Harry, who thought York was an incompetent prick, but who couldn't act as if he wasn't supporting his subordinates even as he attempted to update departmental training and policies to make sure that foreign spells weren't treated as automatically suspicious. The MLEOs were nervous because they didn't like being near people who were casting incomprehensible spells—it made them jumpy, and unlike their Auror counterparts, they weren't highly trained enough to recognise the quality of spells (Dark or not) by the magical aura alone.</p><p>On top of all that, it had caused the Magical Civil Liberties Union to publicly attack the list of restricted potions ingredients, arguing that the list was skewed to disallow ingredients thought to be dangerous by Western standards with no regard to how those ingredients were used in other cultures. The ingredient el-Sabir had bought (jimsonweed) was illegal in Magical Britain, but it was an ingredient in important Arabic magical rituals. </p><p>That Harry had not already pulled out all his hair was a miracle.</p><p>With a small shout of "Timber!", Wilhelm emerged from his little wooden cottage and swung at the tree. "Harry, mate, the Ministerial Vow starts in ten on the WWN."</p><p>Harry looked up at Wilhelm in disbelief. "Do I look like I want to listen to Rump become MoM? Didn't I refuse to attend in person?"</p><p>"You'll forgive my saying," Wilhelm said as he inspected the spot on the wooden tree that his axe routinely hit, "you have been thinking of little else for the past few days. You thought of the ceremony at least five times, so you must at least've been thinkin' about it."</p><p>"I keep thinking about it in <i>despair,</i>" Harry clarified.</p><p>The past few weeks had been a whirlwind—Rump about to become Minister, telling Ginny and Astoria and Ron and Hermione about his relationship with Draco (they'd all seemed less surprised than they should've, in Harry's opinion, and he worried at least one of them suspected it was a farce), then telling the Weasleys and dealing with the knowledge that Draco had informed his parents. It was simply too much to deal with. So yes, he'd been thinking about Rump's upcoming vow, along with all the other bullshit.</p><p>Wilhelm pointed his little axe at Harry. "All I'm saying, lad, is that it's happening in ten minutes. What you do with that information is up to you, as always. All I do is give you timely reminders. No need to AK the messenger." He swung the axe onto his shoulder.</p><p>Harry closed his eyes and sighed. "Right, sorry Wilhelm. It's not you. I appreciate the reminder, but I will be here at my desk writing an important fucking policy paper and feeling like I'm going to fuck it all up, rather than listening as the nation is handed over to a madman."</p><p>Wilhelm nodded. "Would an anecdote cheer you up?"</p><p>Harry, resting his chin on his hand, looked up. "Sure."</p><p>"You know how Twycross in Magical Games and Sports has been keeping a tally of how many days in a row Smoot wears the turquoise robes?"</p><p>Harry couldn't suppress a smile. "Yeah."</p><p>"Well," Wilhelm said, hinging forward at the waist conspiratorially, "Smoot found the tally."</p><p>Harry burst out laughing. He really shouldn't be gossiping with a clock, but one took one's jollies where one could, these days. "What did Smoot do?!"</p><p>"Well Smoot isn't in good temper on the best of days, as ye know—"</p><p>The Floo roared, and Harry turned towards it, surprised. Draco's head appeared in the flames.</p><p>"Scorpius and Albus just Flooed—they're on their way over to listen to the Vow with 'us.' They assume we're listening together." Harry stared for a beat too long and Draco snapped his fingers. "So get your arse over here."</p><p>Wilhelm laughed with glee as the wooden platform he stood on rotated, bringing him inside his cottage. "I knew it!"</p><p>Harry rolled his eyes at Wilhelm. "Can't you tell them I'm at work? Because I am." He gestured at the papers on the desk. "At work."</p><p>"Well, I could," Draco's green-flame face said. "Except Scorpius seems to think that we need to be there for each other in this hour of need, or something, and presumably you, as my partner, would also want us to be there for each other, in this, our hour of fucking need." He paused, then added, "Bring your work over, if you want."</p><p>Before Draco even finished talking, Harry pointed his wand at the desk. All the papers and books organised themselves in a neat stack, which Harry Shrunk and put neatly into his pocket. "Alright, get out of the way. I'm coming."</p><p>"Thanks, lover," Draco said, and his head disappeared. </p><p>"Oh for the love of," Harry murmured. <i>Lover</i>. What a bell-end. He opened his office door. "Jorgen, I'm off to Malfoy's for the Vow, so I'll probably be out of the office for the rest of the day. Text me if anything important comes up?"</p><p>Jorgen nodded. "Will do, sir."</p><p>Harry waited for the door to close all the way and the wards to activate, then stepped into the Floo. There was a scuffle on the other end and Harry, confused, fell out of Draco's fireplace onto the floor in a tangle of limbs.</p><p>"Ugh, Dad!"</p><p>Albus's limbs. They'd Flooed at the exact same time. Harry <i>hated </i>when that happened.</p><p>"Oh, Al, sorry, just—" Harry scooted to the side, but was interrupted by a fond, bright laugh. </p><p>"You look like a couple of wet cats," Scorpius laughed. "Except covered in soot, not water."</p><p>Scorpius and Draco stood looking down at Harry and Albus, on the floor covered in soot. In unison, they each held out a hand. It was like a scene out of some odd blond horror film.</p><p>Harry hesitated as Albus grabbed Scorpius's hand and let himself be tugged to his feet. Draco stared expectantly down at Harry, then withdrew his hand. "Fine, I won't help you."</p><p>Shit. Harry wasn't acting the part of smitten lover very well, was he? "Sorry! Just a little, er, discombobulated. I do want your help."</p><p>Now Draco, Scorpius, and Albus looked down at Harry.</p><p>"Are you hurt?" Scorpius asked.</p><p>Harry laughed, feeling like a knob. "No! Draco, please help me up. I would love your help."</p><p>Draco rolled his eyes and extended his hand. "You're ridiculous. Are you quite certain you're not Confunded? Or concussed?"</p><p>Harry grasped Draco's hand and hoisted himself up. He and Draco were standing very close, hands clasped. He wasn't going to fuck up by hesitating again, so he leaned in and pressed a kiss to Draco's lips. "Thank you."</p><p>When Harry stepped away, Draco's face was unreadable. "You're very welcome. Now everyone hurry up or we'll miss it."</p><p>"That is still very fucking weird," Albus whispered, looking between Harry and Draco.</p><p>Harry turned and extended his arms to hug Albus, which his son tolerated. Albus pulled away. "You know there will be like twenty boring speeches first." He gestured towards the kitchen. "So let's get some snacks?"</p><p>Scorpius nodded, and the two of them disappeared into the kitchen. It reminded Harry of before Albus and Scorpius were a couple, when Scorpius used to come spend the weekend with the Potters, and he and Albus would walk around attached at the hip, whispering, eating every bit of food in the house.</p><p>"I can't believe you're making me listen to this," Harry complained, following Draco into the sitting room. "I was making a point not to."</p><p>"To whom, exactly, does that make a point?" Draco asked, flopping into an armchair. "The great Harry Potter, beacon of the resistance, fighting evil by…not watching a Vow? Also, have you forgotten that they're showing it in hologram this year? We'll be watching, not listening."</p><p>"Really? I missed that. I've been avoiding the news," Harry said, dropping onto the sofa. "And leave me alone. We're all allowed to be grumpy about it."</p><p>Draco sighed. "That's certainly true." He waved his wand and a desk appeared behind the sofa. "If you need to keep working."</p><p>"Oh," Harry said. "Fuck, I guess I do need to."</p><p>By the time Albus and Scorpius returned, Harry had all his papers restored to their proper sizes and organised into piles on the conjured desk. Albus put a plate of shortbread fingers—Harry's favourite—next to him.</p><p>"Thanks, Al." Harry smiled, biting into the crumbly biscuit.</p><p>He tried to resume working on his policy paper, but he couldn't help watching the antics of the others. Draco couldn't find the news-hologram spell password. (There were different passwords for different broadcasts, so you could be sure your spell would bring up the right hologram. This had become necessary after people started accidentally projecting porn holograms into their sitting rooms.) Draco griped for a bit about not being able to easily find the password on the Prophet app, and Albus muttered to Scorpius that they would've come prepared if they'd known Draco didn't have it under control. Scorpius eventually found the password and they began the holographic broadcast after some of the (unpleasant) pleasantries had passed.</p><p>Their small talk continued against the background prattle of various officials. Albus waved his wand to mute Head of Muggle-Worthy Excuses and turned to ask Draco a question about wizarding history. Albus was a tutor for magical children who were too young for Hogwarts, and he was forever lamenting the way that pure-blood parents insisted on teaching pure-blood history. Albus, of course, had never particularly learned pure-blood history, and leaned heavily on his historian husband when a family insisted on "rigor in magigenealogy." But Draco and Astoria hadn't drilled Scorpius in what Draco referred to as "the traditional manner," so Albus sometimes came to Draco with his more obscure magigenealogy tutoring questions. </p><p>Harry watched all this with interest rather than doing his work. Somehow, despite the years, Albus looking up to Draco as a father figure had never gotten less strange. Well, it didn't seem <i>strange</i>, exactly. But it did seem somewhat miraculous.</p><p>"Dad," Albus said when Draco'd finished reviewing the effect of Fortunade Lestrange's elopement on the Goblin Rebellion of 1752, "stop working and come watch with us. The only way we'll get through this is by making fun of Rump as a community."</p><p>Harry huffed a laugh and pushed away from the desk. He felt guilty for pushing off this work, but he'd always had a soft spot for his kids asking him to spend time with them instead of working. Who was he to say no? </p><p>He dropped to the sofa next to Albus. "I can't believe they're letting Cornfoot talk."</p><p>Draco hummed in agreemen as he reached for one of the keto snacks Lorraine had prepared for him. "At least we don't feel bad about muting him." He turned to look at Harry. "What are you working on? It must be important."</p><p>Harry sighed. "A policy paper on racial and ethnic profiling in the DMLE."</p><p>Draco frowned as Cornfoot walked out of the hologram and someone Harry didn't recognise walked in. "Why on earth haven't you asked me for help?"</p><p>Harry stared. It hadn't even occurred to him, though he supposed if he were coupled with Draco it would've been his first thought.</p><p>"You know I did all that research and was the one to write Penelope's campaign platform on profiling."</p><p>Albus snickered, apparently amused.</p><p>"I—" Harry said, "I didn't think to ask you. I don't usually ask anyone for help with work. Unless it's someone below me."</p><p>"Dad," Albus interrupted, "if you make a joke about Draco being able to help with your work because he's also <i>below you, </i>I'm leaving."</p><p>Harry whirled towards Albus. "Albus! Way to make it dirty and then complain about it."</p><p>Draco hid a smile behind his hand. "It's fine. I'm merely offering my services. I <i>am</i> very highly qualified. Got a first at the Royal Academy of Magic, you know. Argued regularly in front of the Wizengamot. Can produce references upon request."</p><p>Harry snorted. "Er, thank you. I gladly accept your help."</p><p>"And Albus," Draco added, "if anyone is <i>below </i>anyone else, your father is below me."</p><p>Albus choked on his food as Scorpius gasped, "Dad!"</p><p>"What the fuck?!" Harry said, gaping at Draco. "Why would you say that! Is that even true?"</p><p>Harry froze. <i>Is that even true? </i>Ah, yes, totally something he'd say if they were a real couple. Good job, Harry.</p><p>"Of course it's not true," Draco replied without missing a beat, "because we don't subscribe to limiting stereotypes. But if Albus wants to bring it up, he best be prepared to take as good as he gets."</p><p>Harry took a moment to be grateful 'that's what she said' jokes had fallen out of popularity.</p><p>"Can we stop with the bickering?" Scorpius asked. "Look, they're introducing Rump." He waved his wand to restore the hologram's sound.</p><p>"Oh Merlin, I can't watch," Albus said, covering his eyes with his hand.</p><p>Rump walked onto the dias, his unfortunate hair blowing in the breeze. </p><p>"It really turns one's stomach, doesn't it?" Scorpius reached for Albus's hand.</p><p>"Indeed." Draco's frown deepened.</p><p>
  <i>"Norris Rump, you are here to take the Vow of office as the democratically elected thirty-seventh Minister of Magic. Do you understand all the office and Vow entail?"</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Yes."</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Touch your wand to the potion. Three clockwise stirs. Say the words."</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"I will protect the Magical Community of Britain to the best of my ability for the entirety of my tenure in office. I will take no bribes. I will be the representative of all witches and wizards. I will carry out my duty to create everlasting Magical peace at home and abroad."</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Drink the potion from the chalice."</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Minister Rump, may you be protected in your duty by all forces magical and non-magical."</i>
</p><p>The crowd gathered at the ceremony burst into applause, which sounded tinny in the hologram.</p><p>It was done. Norris Rump was MoM. Thanks to the Vow, he would drop dead if he willfully put any magical citizens in danger. Harry wasn't holding his breath, though. That had never happened to any Minister, even at the height of the wars. Turned out that most political leaders convinced themselves their motives were pure, even when they weren't, and the Vow required only lack of willful neglect.</p><p>Albus slid an arm around Scorpius. Draco's mouth twisted into a displeased expression. Harry sighed. A small part of him had thought something would intervene before Rump <i>actually</i> became Minister. A counting error in the election returns, the Vow killing him on the spot, a freak heart attack—something. </p><p>Now it was time for Rump to speak. He looked smug even in holographic projection.</p><p>
  <i>"Chief Warlock Bones. Minister Glass. Minister Shacklebolt. Supreme Mugwump Chéreau. Members of the Wizengamot. Witches and Wizards of Magical Britain."</i>
</p><p>"Blah, blah, blah," Albus murmured. "Insufferable."</p><p>"And what about non-binary magical people? And Squibs?" Scorpius seethed. "Of course he would just say 'witches and wizards'."</p><p>
  <i>"We, the citizens of Magical Britain, are now joined in a great national effort to rebuild our country and to restore its promise for all of our people."</i>
</p><p>"Restore it from what?" Albus asked, incensed already. </p><p>Harry knew that Albus and Scorpius were comforted by annotating the speech with their outrage. Harry couldn't bring himself to take part—it was all too fucked up. It was beyond commentary. Everyone in the room already agreed that Rump was a terror. Harry could only sit in silence, watching in a state of numb shock as the speech progressed.</p><p>Draco, too, was silent.</p><p>
  <i>"The time for empty talk is over.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Now arrives the hour of action.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Do not let anyone tell you it cannot be done. No challenge can match the heart and fight and spirit of Magical Britain. Do not underestimate this country. Do not underestimate our powers of organisation and our determination, because we know the enormous strengths of this economy in Potions, in Charms, in magical exports, in music, the arts, spell patents, financial services.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"No one in the last few centuries has succeeded in betting against the pluck and nerve and ambition of this country."</i>
</p><p>"Except for that time with the whole Death-Eaters-take-over-the-government thing," Albus deadpanned.</p><p>
  <i>"They will not succeed today.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"We in this government will work flat out to give this country the leadership it deserves, and that work begins now. Thank you very much."</i>
</p><p>The crowd cheered in horrible contrast to Harry's mood.</p><p><i>"Well, there you have it," </i>a commentator began, but Scorpius waved his wand to end the holographic broadcast.</p><p>"What do you make of it, Dad?" Scorpius asked, turning in his seat to look at Draco.</p><p>Draco sighed, then shook his head. "Who knows. He didn't say much outright, despite saying that 'the time for empty talk is over.' A lot of subtext, though."</p><p>"Subtle xenophobia throughout," Harry murmured. "Discussion of unity with the unspoken message that the unity will be based on traditional British wizarding standards. No mention of the vulnerable, only discussing vaguely that things used to be better to stoke fear in his supporters."</p><p>Draco hummed in agreement and Harry gave him a sympathetic look. Their kids didn't understand the way it felt to have fought a war against fascists and then live to see a new set of subtler fascists rise to power. Obviously Harry wouldn't prefer the death toll of another Voldemort, but at least back then it had been clear what they were up against (although plenty of people had ignored that too). This was more insidious.</p><p>Albus's phone dinged. "Matty wants to know if we want to come over. Apparently his dad is getting trollied on Kilkennys."</p><p>Scorpius turned imploringly to his father. "We don't have to go."</p><p>Draco waved his hand. "Don't be silly; we'll be fine. I've got Harry here. We can air our woes to each other."</p><p>Scorpius's big grey eyes slid to Harry.</p><p>"Yes, go!" Harry said. "We're fine. We've seen much worse."</p><p>Albus sent a message on his phone and they stood up, Scorpius giving hugs to Draco and Harry and Albus talking a mile a minute about when they'd next see each other. Then they stepped into the Floo and swirled away.</p><p>"This is a new era of shit, isn't it?" Harry asked after a moment of silence.</p><p>"Certainly is," Draco said. Then he frowned. "But you're not allowed to say that, because you're meant to be newly in love and commensurately smitten, so the world can't be all bad."</p><p>"No offense, Draco, but having to pretend I'm in love when I'm actually not in love and am, instead, horrified about world politics definitely falls under the label of 'shit'."</p><p>Draco laughed sadly. "The world is always a steaming pile of dragon dung, Potter."</p><p>Was that true? Harry tried to think of an exception. "Our kids are pretty lovely."</p><p>"A fair point," Draco said. He stood, gesturing to the desk. "Tell me what you have so far on this policy paper?"</p><p>Harry eyed the research littering the desk with distaste, but then gathered his motivation to stand from the sofa and go back to the desk. "Yes. Thank you for your help. This is more important now than ever. Think we can make it binding for Rump—so he can't enact any policies that profile based on magical or ethnic heritage?"</p><p>"Fat chance," Draco said, conjuring a chair and sitting. "But it's important to have it in writing, anyway." He leaned over Harry's draft and began to pore over it systematically. "We need to add a paragraph before you introduce this. Give me a quill."</p><p>There were no fewer than three biros on the desk, but Harry rolled his eyes and Summoned a quill.</p><p>
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</p><p>
  <i>"In the name of national security, Norris Rump has successfully passed a bill banning all magic not included in the standard British educational curriculum. 'The curriculum' refers to the Hogwarts curriculum (up to N.E.W.T. level) as well as any curricula taught at post-secondary schools in Britain, including the Royal Academy of Magic. It is unclear what this means for the legality of magic learned through apprenticeships on British soil. The move has been widely denounced as xenophobic, as it functionally criminalises all foreign magical traditions. Dennis Creevey of the MCLU—"</i>
</p><p>Harry, mouth full of toothpaste, waved his hand to turn off the radio. He couldn't listen to another minute. This would be a complete nightmare at the DMLE, of course—how would his MLEOs and Aurors deal with this? Harry certainly wouldn't be condoning the arrest of people whose only crimes were using foreign spells. Merlin, what a nightmare. He was going to have to write a DMLE policy directing his employees to turn a blind eye to harmless foreign spells, possibly by clarifying what was meant by "reasonable grounds for suspicion"—</p><p>"Harry!" a voice shouted from downstairs. "Potter!"</p><p>That was Draco. Harry spit his toothpaste froth into the sink, wiped his mouth, and sighed. He wasn't even dressed yet. "Be down in a mo'!"</p><p>After pulling on a t-shirt, he ran downstairs. "What's wrong?"</p><p>Draco had made himself at home in the kitchen, and was charming a pot of coffee. "Nothing's wrong. Why would you think something was wrong?"</p><p>Harry wrinkled his nose. "Er, you showed up in my house at eight o'clock in the morning with no warning and shouted for me?"</p><p>"Nothing's wrong. Nothing at all. Every foreign-educated person in Magical Britain is in tears, or if they're not in tears, they're planning a protest. At best. I wouldn't blame them for rioting, really. In fact, maybe that's what we need—a good old fashioned revolution. Where's your sugar?"</p><p>Harry opened the cupboard with all the stuff he didn't often use, pulled out the sugar bowl, and Levitated it to Draco. "Draco—"</p><p>"Scorpius knows French spells. He spent every summer in France."</p><p>"Draco, Scorpius is a rich, British <i>Malfoy</i>—he's really not in danger."</p><p>"I know that. But still. And you bring up a good point. The only people who will be prosecuted are the ones who already vulnerable and—"</p><p>This was bizarre. Harry wasn't used to comforting anyone who wasn't one of his kids or an employee. And truthfully, he kind of sucked at comforting employees—that balance between empathy and superiority always left Harry feeling awkward. But he couldn't leave Draco spiraling like this.</p><p>He stepped forward and touched Draco's arm. "I think you're forgetting that you're sleeping with the head of the DMLE." He had Draco's attention. "Help me figure out a way to make sure this doesn't result in prosecutions? I was thinking that, first, we can stall by saying we need a few months to draft a new policy. Then we can ask for an extension. Second, we can change the definition of 'reasonable grounds for suspicion' so that the use of foreign incantations isn't enough." Harry stopped. That was as far as he'd gotten. "What else?"</p><p>Draco blinked, his eyes taking on a calculating expression. "Trainings for the MLEOs and Aurors. We come up with some example of a case where they <i>could</i> arrest someone as running afoul of this policy, only the example we come up with is preposterous and something they would never see in the real world."</p><p>Harry nodded. "That's good. Yes." He poured himself a coffee. "Of course, if we do this, I'll be fired eventually."</p><p>Draco sighed in agreement, pinching his nose. "Yes. And Rump would find a way to make it seem like he was promoting you or something, to avoid public outcry."</p><p>Harry waved his hand. "It's fine. I don't mind. I've put my life on the line before, doing it with my career is no big deal."</p><p>Draco ignored this heroic claim. "Who has the power to change the Hogwarts curriculum—is it McGonagall?"</p><p>"I don't think so," Harry said, "though obviously she <i>should </i>have control of it. I think it's the Board of Governors. Possibly with the approval of one of the Ministry departments? I forget."</p><p>"You know what really gets my goat?" Draco continued, gesturing wildly. "The idea that the spells taught at Hogwarts are somehow not 'foreign.' Last I checked, Latin originated in what is now Italy. Nearly every spell taught there is 'foreign.' I don't see them teaching spells using Old English incantations. When they want to levitate an object, I don't see them saying <i>beflīeheþ.</i>"</p><p>Harry took a sip of coffee. "To be fair, I don't see anyone saying…that."</p><p>"Old English, Potter, keep up."</p><p>"Oh, I'm keeping up. I'm just saying. I mean, you're right. But I'm not sure ranting about Old English is really the way forward."</p><p>Draco pushed his hair out of his eyes and folded his arms across his chest. "I know that. What if I simply want to complain?"</p><p>"Well, be my guest," Harry said, reaching into the cabinet for a pan. "Did you eat breakfast?"</p><p>Draco replied in the negative and continued his rant as Harry made breakfast. It was a sign of Draco's agitation that he never once mentioned that Harry was wearing pyjama bottoms.</p><p>Draco paused his rant when they sat at the table with full plates of eggs, toast, and fruit. Harry figured there was no way Draco's rant was truly finished—Draco would rant forever about most things, after all—but that he merely needed a breather and/or sustenance. Now was Harry's chance to change the subject, to focus on something they could actually <i>do. </i></p><p>"So when do you want to go public?" Harry asked around a mouthful of toast.</p><p>"Hmm? These eggs are divine." Draco finished chewing. "You mean with our relationship?"</p><p>"Yeah. What do you think is good timing?"</p><p>"Well, the sooner the better, really, because we want it to seem like old news by the time the next election rolls around, and we've already done the groundwork of appearing in public together more frequently."</p><p>"Right." Harry sipped his coffee. "Hear me out—I think we should talk to Parvati."</p><p>"No," Draco said. "We can't involve anyone. We aren't even telling our children, for fuck's sake."</p><p>"No, I don't mean—I mean, we should tell her that we're secretly dating and that you are going to run for office and we're wondering the best PR strategy for breaking it to the public. So we tell her everything except that we're not really, you know, together."</p><p>Draco, chewing, considered for a moment. "I suppose that is something we would consider doing, were it a real relationship. We need to keep asking ourselves if it is something we would do, if it were real."</p><p>"Well, I think we would. Because we're both public figures, our sons are married, and we're thinking of the political implications, as much as I hate that. If it were real, I'd probably be annoyed at political concerns affecting our relationship."</p><p>"You're such a romantic. Well, you can just tell Parvarti and Lavender that, and maybe they can work it into the plan."</p><p>If anyone could figure all this out, it was Parvati and Lavender. Officially, Parvarti was the public relations consultant and Lavender didn't work. Lav had wanted to stay home with their kids, Ajay and Abha, which she had done, but even when their kids were little, Lav had been an integral part of Parvati's business. </p><p>"So I should see if they can come over? You want to have them over here or to your place?"</p><p>The Floo interrupted them and Lily stepped out, holding a piece of paper. When she saw the two of them, she froze. "Oh, <i>ew.</i> I didn't mean to—you know—interrupt."</p><p>For the first time that day, Draco's face lost its haunted quality. He grinned, apparently delighted that Lily thought she'd interrupted a morning after—with Harry in his pyjamas, no less!—without their even having staged it.</p><p>"Lils," Harry sighed, "you're not allowed to say <i>ew</i> about us having breakfast. Come on. Be reasonable."</p><p>She shook her head. "Right. That seems likely. I just need some ingredients." The paper in her hand was a recipe.</p><p>Harry smiled at her indulgently. "Why didn't you go to the <i>market</i>?"</p><p>"I didn't want to put a bra on," she said, rummaging through cabinets and amassing a queue of ingredients Levitating behind her. "Plus, at the market you have to pay."</p><p>Harry opted to ignore this. "Would you like some breakfast?"</p><p>"Nah, I'm off to make something super unhealthy even though Nico won't eat it because of the sugar. See you later."</p><p>If there was one saving grace about the Nico situation, it was that she at least didn't let Nico hold her back from living her truth.</p><p>As soon as the Floo quieted, Draco burst out laughing. "You are <i>such </i>a pushover with your kids."</p><p>"I am not!"</p><p>"Let's invite Parvati and Lavender to mine. That's where we're going to live, after all."</p><p>"Sure." Harry took a bite of eggs. Maybe he was a little bit of a pushover. But he couldn't find it in him to care.</p><p>
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</p><p>"<i>Please </i>tell me nothing's wrong with the boys," Parvati said the moment she'd stepped through Draco's Floo, before Lavender had even fully materialised. "I asked Ajay but he hadn't heard anything. They're not getting divorced, are they?"</p><p>Lavender, stepping inside, shot a spell at her grey curls to get the soot out. "It is <i>such </i>a shame when good relationships go south. I always say it's from the magical community's shameful lack of therapy."</p><p>Harry held a hand up. "The boys are fine. No one's getting divorced."</p><p>Parvati's mauve lips turned down. "Then why are we here? This is a professional call, correct? Not that I would say no to a social call, of course."</p><p>Lavender nodded. "Draco's elf makes fantastic petit fours."</p><p>"Why don't we sit?" Draco asked, gesturing towards the sitting room. </p><p>Once they were all seated and Lorraine had served the tea and (to Lavender's delight) the petit fours, Draco assumed a comportment that suggested getting down to business.</p><p>"What we need your advice on is this," he said carefully. "Harry and I are…romantically entangled."</p><p>Harry grimaced. "<i>Romantically entangled</i>? Are you kidding me?" He turned to Parvati. "But we <i>are</i> together. I'm only opposed to the phrase 'romantically entangled'."</p><p>There was a long pause, then Lavender's hand flew up to her mouth. She looked like she hadn't heard anything this exciting in years. </p><p>Parvati's reaction was more calculating. "You're not shitting us?"</p><p>Draco shook his head. </p><p>Her eyes widened with excitement. She turned to Lavender. "We are going to sell <i>so </i>many papers. What do you think, merch? An authorised fictionalisation? A tell-all?"</p><p>Lav clapped her hands together. "Oh my goodness, it is too good. <i>Too good!</i> There's nothing we can't do with this, boys. <i>Nothing!</i>"</p><p>Harry tried to keep the horror off his face, not wanting to insult them. "We don't want any of that. We don't want a fictionalised account or merch or whatever."</p><p>"Harry," Parvati said with a stern look, "we <i>need </i>this. Magical Britain needs this. Do you know how much joy you could bring to people, distracting them from their sorrow over Rump?"</p><p>"How exactly would this bring people joy?" Draco asked, holding a petit four delicately between two fingers.</p><p>"People <i>live </i>for love stories of famous people!" Lavender enthused. "And you two have the added juiciness of past enmity, and the whole war thing, too." She turned to Parvati. "Remember the writing contest in the girls' dorm in fifth year? Nevermind." She waved her hand to cut off their questions. "Plus the family connection with your kids. It's like star-crossed lovers for the modern age!"</p><p>"Plus," Parvati said crisply, "people think you're fit. They'd get their rocks off, imagining the two of you at it. Which, needless to say, sells super well."</p><p>"For fuck's sake!" Harry spluttered, getting crumbs everywhere. "No. Our goal is not to revitalise the porn industry."</p><p>Parvati held up a finger. "Don't be judgy, Hazza; the porn industry pays really well."</p><p>"What <i>is</i> your goal?" Lavender asked, licking a bit of frosting off her lip.</p><p>"Oh, right," Draco said. "That is the entire point, rather. I want to run for Minister in the next election."</p><p>Lavender squealed. </p><p>"And we want to make sure," Draco continued, "that we break the news of our relationship to the public in the most strategic way possible, both for us and our families and for the success of my candidacy."</p><p>"Give us twenty-four hours," Parvati said, "and I will present you with at least three plans engineered to maximise your desired outcomes. You can choose between the plans and I will help you prepare for whichever course you choose."</p><p>Harry smiled, feeling a sense of relief at having this in the capable hands of Parvati and Lavender. "Fantastic!"</p><p>No sooner had Draco shaken their hands than the two of them were gathering their things and muttering excitedly to each other. "We'll need to check the poll numbers—the data from the Smithwick elopement—the effect on the queer movement—voter mobilisation—"</p><p>"Thanks for coming," Harry said, feeling awkward. He hated when people talked about him when he was right there, even if he had invited it.</p><p>Parvati looked back at them. "Don't mention it, Harry. This will be fun!"</p><p>"And congratulations," Lavender said, placing a hand on Harry's arm and giving them an excited look that made Harry uncomfortable. "I'm <i>so </i>happy for you. You both deserve it."</p><p>"Tomorrow!" Parvati declared before stepping into the Floo. "Same time, same place?"</p><p>"Sounds perfect," Draco said.</p><p>As soon as they were gone, Harry slumped against the wall. "They make me feel like I'm in over my head."</p><p>"The whole point of hiring them is that now we don't <i>have </i>to worry about any of that, because they'll do it for us."</p><p>"I suppose."</p><p>Draco wandered back towards the sitting room and picked up his teacup. "Potter, would you do me the favour of Obliviating 'the fifth year girls' dorm writing contest,' which seems to have been at least tangentially about us, from my memory?"</p><p>Harry laughed and helped himself to another petit four.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Spring 2036</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry this took so long! Hope everyone is healthy and fighting for justice. Hope this brings a moment of levity. &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry stuck his head out of the Floo. "Al? Scorpius?"</p><p>Salazar the cat walked past, glancing uninterestedly at Harry's head in the flames before she wandered off. </p><p>"ALBUS?"</p><p>Harry moved his hand from where he was bracing himself on the hearth and scrubbed it through his hair. He'd been trying to get Albus alone to talk to him for weeks, but it was proving nearly impossible to get him away from Scorpius. But Harry really wanted to talk to Albus alone, to make sure Albus was okay with his dad dating his father-in-law. He didn't really think Albus (or Scorpius) would have a problem with it (and surely Draco would never have conceived of this wild plan if he thought it would be a problem for their sons), but at the same time he really needed to actually <i>talk </i>about it with him. And time was running out. He had to do it now. Before he and Draco did…what they were planning to do.</p><p>Fuck's sake. How was this his life? Though he supposed stranger things had happened in plenty of families, it felt like his life generally surpassed all others in sheer preposterousness.</p><p>"Dad?" Albus wandered into the living room from their bedroom, bleary-eyed and tousle-haired. "What's wrong?" Scorpius followed behind him, pulling a t-shirt on as he came into view. Harry was sometimes still taken aback by the way Scorpius did and didn't resemble Draco—Scorpius looked like who Draco could've been, in another life. He looked like Draco without the imprint of fascist bigotry and torture.</p><p>"It's eleven am," Harry said, amused. "What time is safe to assume you're awake?"</p><p>"You're usually safe after noon," Scorpius said. "What's wrong?"</p><p>"Oh, well, nothing. But can I come through? I was hoping to have a father-son chat."</p><p>"Yeah, sure," Albus said, yawning.</p><p>Harry pushed back out of the flames and brushed himself off. He hated kneeling in the Floo, but after days of trying to text Albus to meet, he'd bitten the wand. He looked around the kitchen, grabbed the coffee pot, and stepped back into the Floo.</p><p>He blinked, trying to equilibrate, and when the spinning stopped, Albus was grinning widely at him, which made Harry's chest feel full to bursting.</p><p>"You brought coffee! Bless you." Albus took the pot and Levitated three mugs to the table. </p><p>Scorpius grabbed a mug, filled it, and sat at the table expectantly.</p><p>Harry should've figured there was no way his "father-son" chat was going to exclude Scorpius. The two of them had been joined at the hip since their first year at Hogwarts. And it wasn't like Harry had the heart to ask Scorpius to leave—he <i>was </i>one of the people Harry considered "his kids," after all. Even if he had <i>wanted</i> to talk to just Al.</p><p>Harry accepted a mug from Albus and sat. "Right. Erm. I wanted to check in with you. About how you're feeling about me and Draco."</p><p>Albus tilted his head. "How are <i>you </i>feeling about you and Draco?"</p><p>Harry's mouth twitched up. "Nice try. We're talking about you two."</p><p>Albus glanced at Scorpius, then back at Harry. "Er. We understand? And want you both to be happy? And it's kind of weird but these things happen—people fall in love with the people they're around, so, you know, these things happen. You're not the first person to fall in love with your kid's partner's parent."</p><p>"To be fair, I knew Draco way before either of you were born." Harry cringed. "Sorry. I'm not trying to be defensive. But you haven't really told me how you <i>feel.</i> You're just intellectualising."</p><p>Albus pulled a face. "I don't know, Dad. It's weird, but I'm not upset."</p><p>"Really?" Harry searched Al's face. "Can we like, talk about it? I want to make sure you're okay. And I want you to know that we're going to try to keep you out of the press, like always."</p><p>"We're fine," Scorpius said quietly, looking at Albus and then back to Harry. "We're fine as long as you and my dad are fine."</p><p>Harry smiled tentatively. "We're good. We're better than good."</p><p>"What about the press?" Albus asked. "You said you were going to keep us out of the press—what press?"</p><p>Harry considered how to phrase this. "Well, you know we're worried how this will reflect on Draco if and when he runs in the next election. So, er, we hired Parvati and Lavender."</p><p>A devious smile creased Scorpius's face. "You didn't. What are you planning?"</p><p>"It's a surprise," Harry said. "But I can tell you that we said no to their suggestion that we start a reality show on holo-telly."</p><p>Albus snorted into his coffee mug. </p><p>"But honestly, you can tell me the truth. I can handle it. I won't necessarily change my life because of what you say, but I can handle the truth—so really, you're okay?" Harry looked imploringly at Albus.</p><p>Albus set down his mug. "Dad, honestly, it's fine. It's actually really nice to see you like this. You seem— Well, you seem…undefeated."</p><p>Harry frowned. "Did I seem defeated before?"</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>"No offense," Scorpius added with haste.</p><p>"Or maybe not <i>defeated,</i> but resigned?" Albus asked, looking to Scorpius for his input.</p><p>"Like you'd decided life had everything in it that it would ever have, so you'd stop looking for anything else that might make you happy," Scorpius ventured.</p><p>Harry's jaw fell open.</p><p>"It's not a bad thing necessarily, Dad." Albus patted his arm. "And the same was true of Draco."</p><p>Scorpius nodded. "We're glad you're both taking life by the horns." A faint look of disgust crossed Scorpius's face, and Harry could only guess he was regretting his choice of metaphor.</p><p>"It happens a lot when parents let themselves lose their identity. When they settle into middle age with kids," Albus said. "You let your interests go, then your kids leave and…you know."</p><p>Harry blinked. His child—his <i>childless</i> child—was lecturing him about having become boring by giving up his hobbies and focusing too much on his family? Harry had half a mind to tell Albus that <i>he</i> was the reason Harry'd had to quit the recreational Quidditch league. Albus had gone through a phase where he was so clingy that Ginny couldn't handle all three kids on her own while Harry was out for practice one night per week. They'd tried to make it work for awhile, but everyone was so exhausted that they'd eventually given up. And after quitting, Harry had fallen asleep in Albus's bed almost every day for a <i>year</i>.</p><p>Harry closed his eyes for a moment, let out his breath. He always takes the high road when it comes to his kids. "Right. So have you heard anything from the adoption agency?"</p><p>The two of them started talking excitedly, and Harry listened, enjoying his coffee and the company of a son who was so privileged he took Harry for granted. </p><p>Everything as it should be.</p><p>
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</p><p>Parvati said it'd be today, and Harry was freaking out. He was pretending that he wasn't freaking out, but he was. He couldn't believe they'd let Parvati talk them into this.</p><p>He was restless, alone in his house, and he knew he needed to go somewhere. He thought about going to Ron and Hermione's, or Neville's, or Luna's, or one of his kids', but what good would that do? He couldn't talk about it frankly to any of them. </p><p>So he did the only thing he could do—he stopped at his favourite bakery, bought a huge chocolate cake, and Apparated to Draco's.</p><p>He was tempted to Apparate straight into the foyer, to avoid being seen out front, but since they were actually <i>trying </i>to be seen together, Harry swallowed his discomfort with being watched and landed in front of Draco's house.</p><p>Draco lived in a townhouse in Primrose Hill, right near a bunch of upscale Muggle shops and one or two magical places that went unseen by Muggle eyes. It was only a short walk to the park, which, when he moved in, would be a step up from Harry's current morning walk route.</p><p>Harry knocked, then shoved his hands in his pockets. The door knocker was boring. Harry allowed himself a moment of amusement as he imagined Draco's face if Harry installed his lion door knocker on "their" house. He loved his lion door knocker.</p><p>Draco opened the door. "Hello. Come to celebrate our star-crossed love?" He didn't smile, but it looked like it was a near thing.</p><p>"Waiting is driving me round the twist," Harry said, stepping inside. "I brought cake. Oh. I forgot about the whole…keto thing."</p><p>"I can spell the sugar out of it, and transfigure the wheat into almond. It leaves it a bit…dry, but it's fine."</p><p>"You're going to eat cake with the sugar spelled out? What will even be left? Just a pile of cocoa powder?"</p><p>Draco rolled his eyes and led Harry into the house. "I keep refreshing all my social media."</p><p>Harry sighed. "Me too."</p><p>After a tense few minutes in which Lorraine served tea to go with the cake, their phones buzzed almost simultaneously. Harry grabbed for his with shaking fingers.</p><p>
  <i>Witch Weekly</i><br/>
<i>BREAKING: Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are 'in Love'—See Their Shocking Exchanges</i>
</p><p>Harry stared at the notification for a long minute, reading it over. His brain wanted to short-circuit, but it couldn't really, because they had engineered this very outcome. Parvati had insisted that whatever they leaked needed to be 'scandalous.' They'd walked back her first draft a bit, added some flair of their own, but it was still—pretty extreme. The thought of the entire wizarding world reading it had Harry feeling very odd indeed.</p><p>"Well," Draco said, his voice impossibly prim.</p><p>Harry burst out laughing, the entire thing suddenly seeming like the funniest thing that had ever happened. He imagined his adolescent self seeing this headline and started laughing even harder. When he managed to lift his face, he saw Draco staring at him, pointy chin raised, lips pressed together, and Harry dissolved again into further peals of laughter. "I'm sorry—it's just—"</p><p>Draco sighed in a resigned way. "It's alright, Potter. We all deal with stress in our own way, I suppose. Some of us deal with it like a giggling child."</p><p>"Oh shut up," Harry gasped, trying to regain his breath. "You have to admit it's <i>funny.</i>"</p><p>"We've thrown ourselves to the dragons," Draco said. "It strikes me as a bit terrifying, not <i>funny</i>."</p><p>"It's at least a bit funny," Harry insisted, moving to sit next to Draco. "Let's see what it says."</p><p>Parvati had arranged a "leak" of private messages to the press. The advantage of this scheme was that the resulting press frenzy would be organic and would not look engineered. The disadvantage was, of course, the very same—they had given up control over the message, the spin, everything. Parvati's presentation of options had convinced them that this was the best plan with which to attract the attention and sympathy of the public. "We want everyone to be rooting for your relationship," Parvati had said. "We want people to talk of nothing else," Lavender had added. "When the election comes and you're running, every voter's first thought will be <i>love</i>."</p><p>"Perhaps we should've done a press release, after all," Draco mused.</p><p>"Maybe."</p><p>
  <i>Witch Weekly Exclusive Look:</i>
</p><p><i>Harry Potter, 55, who famously (twice!) defeated You-Know-Who as a child and grew to be the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as well as a ten-time winner of Witch Weekly's </i>Most Charming Smile Award<i>, and Draco Malfoy, 55, reformed Death Eater, philanthropist, political advisor, and solicitor, are in the midst of a secret, steamy, humour-filled relationship! </i></p><p>"Not so secret anymore, Witch Weekly," Harry murmured.</p><p>
  <i>The two men, who were rivals at school in the 90s, later became in-laws when their sons Albus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy got married in 2030. We reported at the time that their relationship seemed amicable—we didn't know just how amicable they would turn out to be!</i>
</p><p>
  <i>It's been reported that the two have been spending more time together (click the link to see more!), but it remains a mystery when their relationship evolved from cordial to sexual. From the looks of an exchange over text message that Witch Weekly has exclusively secured, printed in full below, it appears to have been going on for quite a while.</i>
</p><p><i>[Inset] HP: Do you want to grab lunch before we go to Al and Scorp's tomorrow?</i><br/>
<i>DM: Yes, let's. Do you want to go to that Muggle place so we won't be seen?</i><br/>
<i>HP: Let them see us, who cares</i><br/>
<i>DM: I'm not sure how many times we can be photographed at an intimate lunch before the media starts speculating on our relationship.</i><br/>
<i>HP: True. Should've left that hickey on your neck last time, give them something to talk about</i><br/>
<i>DM: Harry, be serious for a second. How are we going to deal with this? I'm not sure how long we can keep it a secret, unless we close ourselves up in a house and never go anywhere. And you know what will happen once people get wind of it.</i><br/>
<i>HP: Would it really be so bad?</i><br/>
<i>DM: Let's see! They'll dig up our history. My Wizengamot records are publicly accessible. People on Tumblr will probably call us incestuous because of the boys. It'll bring all the queer issues into the spotlight and possibly not in the most politically advantageous ways. They'll say I'm not good enough for you, they'll say I still have Dark tendencies. They'll say I'm using you or that you're under Imperius or something. Or it will make us the target of neo-Death Eaters. Or, perhaps more realistically, the target of my parents.</i><br/>
<i>HP: Draco, CTFD. That stuff was all so long ago. People know you for who you are now. They won't care about any of that. Probably</i><br/>
<i>DM: You know how the media gets about you, Potter. Especially when you have a lover. Remember what they said about that poor Welsh woman?</i><br/>
<i>HP: I don't know what you want me to say. Dealing with that is part of my life, and you're part of my life</i><br/>
<i>DM: I don't want them to ruin this.</i><br/>
<i>HP: I know</i><br/>
<i>DM: It's too important.</i><br/>
<i>HP: I know</i><br/>
<i>DM: Mostly I don't want to put any of us in danger. You know how weird people get about you. </i><br/>
<i>HP: So, what? You're scared about an off possibility that someone could target us? I am capable of taking care of myself, you know. We can't let that affect us. If we did, we'd be letting them win. We need to live our lives</i><br/>
<i>DM: I didn't say that. I just think we need to be careful.</i><br/>
<i>HP: So I shouldn't wear my new t-shirt that says IN LOVE WITH DRACO MALFOY, then?</i><br/>
<i>DM: Save it for the bedroom.</i><br/>
<i>HP: hahaha</i><br/>
<i>DM: I've just thought of something awful.</i><br/>
<i>HP: …</i><br/>
<i>DM: If the media finds out, even if they don't do any of that awful stuff, they'll probably speculate about who tops.</i><br/>
<i>HP: HAHAHA</i><br/>
<i>DM: I'm serious! Do you want Molly reading that?</i><br/>
<i>HP: Maybe we should release a statement? Preempt them?</i><br/>
<i>DM: Good grief. Let's just try not to look like lovers when we're at lunch, alright? We can figure out the rest later.</i><br/>
<i>HP: How am I supposed to not look like your lover? What does that even mean? Do I need to scowl at you or something? Or like, </i>not<i> snog you over our meat pies? How will I manage?</i><br/>
<i>[Click here for exchange in its entirety]</i></p><p>
  <i>This reporter, and everyone at Witch Weekly, would like to go on record: We support you, Harry and Draco! Don't worry about the public reaction! Snog over your meat pies, go ahead! (And grant us an interview so we can give the readers what they want—photos, right, readers?) Congrats, love-birds! </i>
</p><p>When Harry finished reading, Draco was staring into space.</p><p>"It's exactly what we wanted, I think?" Harry asked, tossing his phone down.</p><p>"Yes. It feels very…real. It's awkward."</p><p>"It is awkward." Harry was glad they agreed on that. The idea that every person he knew was probably being sent a link to that article right now…</p><p>"Parvati was right."</p><p>Harry turned towards Draco. "She usually is. What about?"</p><p>"By us bringing up all the shit that people could say, we controlled the message. Their entire commentary was to say they support our relationship. That will be the framing that every person will be presented with."</p><p>Harry nodded. "Do you think we were right to put all that banter in? I know Parvati said…but it doesn't seem all that lovey, does it? I just can't help but wonder if she missed the mark with that."</p><p>Draco's shoulder hitched up. "Parvati wants them to be rooting for us. If we did anything without showing our personalities, people wouldn't be invested. They wouldn't care. You know how it is."</p><p>"This way they'll lose interest faster," Harry said, wanting that to be true. "That's what she said, right?"</p><p>"Well, once we grant an interview." Draco pinched his nose and turned to Harry. "Maybe we should've done Parvati's reality telly plan." He smiled at Harry, and Harry was taken aback by how surreal this all was, joking about this with Draco, thinking a small, self-deprecating Malfoy smile looked good.</p><p>Harry snorted. "Yeah, going on reality telly definitely sounds like something I would do." His phone buzzed and he glanced at it. Text from James: "Dad, are you fucking kidding me? This is the 'planned leak' you warned me was coming? Are you out of your mind? Is this just what happens when you date someone in politics? What the actual fuck! Are you ok? You usually hate this kind of attention."</p><p>Draco's phone buzzed, and Harry leaned over to read the text over his shoulder. Text from Scorpius. "Dad, WHAT are you two trying to do? Give everyone in the country a heart attack? Though I guess I can see the advantage in controlling the message this way. Albus is reading over my shoulder and he says it seems quite Slytherin. I was thinking it was quite Gryffindor. I suppose it's just right then, but ugh. Did you really need to mention incest? Are you and Harry okay?"</p><p>Harry's phone buzzed. Text from Lily: "Ew!"</p><p>Harry sighed and turned to Draco. "Want to turn off our phones and watch a film?"</p><p>"I suppose a distraction would be good. What film?"</p><p>Harry thought for a moment. "Wag the Dog."</p><p>Draco's face creased in confusion, and Harry couldn't help but laugh with delight as he searched for where to stream the movie.</p><p>
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</p><p>Harry wanted nothing less than to continue emptying his house; he wanted to collapse onto the floor. Harry hadn't moved since he and Ginny had split, and that was almost twenty years ago. He'd thought his house was nearly empty for the past 36 hours. Yesterday at lunchtime he'd told Lily that all he had left to move out was "the last few things."</p><p>"The last few things" were apparently enough to fill another seven magically expanded trunks. </p><p>He'd unearthed a trombone James had originally bought to play a prank but then ended up loving—he knew James still had a trombone, so he wasn't sure where this one had come from. He had a vague memory of James losing one once, but that's all he remembered. He'd found boxes and boxes of old school stuff of the kids'—including a Potions essay that he was very keen to show Albus. (One of Albus's peeves as a teacher was students' tendency to ignore all mechanics of writing and math in favour of talking only about magic, resulting in work that was riddled with spelling errors and no grasp of the human universe, and Harry had never seen such a perfect specimen as this essay of Albus's from his second year. In the essay, twelve-year-old Albus had written, "The properts of asfodell are importent because thay give potions viscositey.")</p><p>He had bags filled with Shrunken items to return to James, Albus, Lily, Ginny, Rose, and Teddy. He'd Vanished enough items that he was having worries about however that whole thing worked. He couldn't Vanish so much that it would implode the fabric of existence, could he?</p><p>It was almost enough to make him wish he'd joined Hermione in KonMari back in the twenty-teens. Almost.</p><p>He looked around, thinking how strange it looked, thinking back over the years he'd lived there. Nothing like moving to make one sentimental. </p><p>After the war, he'd sold Grimmauld Place. He hadn't much cared what happened to it so long as it was no longer <i>his. </i>He and Ginny had a flat in Southwark for a while, and then they'd bought a house in Holyhead, near Ginny's work. When he and Gin had split, he needed a place large enough for three kids and he had almost wished he'd held onto Grimmauld. Instead, he'd found this house in Finchley. It was a nice-enough house with bedrooms for everyone, a practical kitchen, and a little garden where he and his kids had played games of low-flying Quidditch. Every inch of it was written with memories.</p><p>He probably should've got a smaller place years ago, but the truth was that any time he considered leaving it, he got sad. </p><p>At least all this moving had distracted him from the uproar in the press about him and Draco dating. Even though Parvati's plan worked—that is, most of the response was excited and eager, rather than outraged or judgmental—it was still exhausting. Harry never liked being in the media spotlight.</p><p>There was a knock on the back door, and Harry shouted, "It's open!"</p><p>Hermione came in from the garden, looking around at the mostly empty house. "How can I help?"</p><p>For some reason, the sight of his best friend appearing, ready to help, without being asked had Harry all choked up. He walked over and wrapped her in a tight hug, pressing his face up against her hair.</p><p>"You're the best," he said. "Have I mentioned? You didn't have to come. I know you're busy."</p><p>She shrugged, smiling. "Friends help each other move. It's like the first line on the friend contract." She pulled away and looked around. "It's so empty."</p><p>Harry sighed. "I know. It's making me…feel things."</p><p>Hermione turned, hand over her mouth. "The horror!"</p><p>He smiled. "I know I need to move. I should've moved before, really."</p><p>Hermione studied him and leaned back on the kitchen counter. "You know…you don't <i>have </i>to move, Harry. You can be in a relationship with him without giving up your home."</p><p>Harry waved his hand dismissively. "I know. I want to. It's just—hard to remind myself that the memories aren't in the <i>house</i>."</p><p>She nodded. She had kids who'd grown and moved out—she understood. "How are you feeling? About moving in together? It's a big step, and it's been a long time since you lived with anyone."</p><p>"Wow, Mi." Harry blinked. "Have you ever considered going into motivational speaking?"</p><p>She laughed, the sound echoing oddly in the empty house. "I just want you to be happy."</p><p>"I'm happy."</p><p>She looked at him closely, then nodded and started shooting Cleaning Charms around the kitchen—at the top of the cupboards, in the corners of the ceiling. "Why isn't Draco here, anyway? Isn't that his job now, helping with shit like this?"</p><p>Harry snorted, unsure how to explain that he'd said no because Draco wasn't <i>actually </i>his partner. "He offered. And he offered his house-elf. I asked him not to. I don't know—he's the new chapter of my life, you know? Feels like I need to finish this one without him."</p><p>Hermione stopped cleaning. "Do you want to be alone? I shouldn't have assumed—"</p><p>"No! You're part of both chapters."</p><p>"So I can clean up messes now and in the future?"</p><p>"Exactly." He smiled. "Thanks for coming."</p><p>With Hermione's help, they got the house emptied and cleaned within the hour and sent her home with a hug and the bag of Rose's stuff he'd discovered. Then he texted his kids to see if any of them wanted to come say goodbye to the house and dealt with the nostalgia and emotional overload of everyone coming over. Lily cried. Albus and Scorpius kept going on and on about all the "firsts" they'd had here (Harry didn't even want to know—though they claimed they weren't talking about anything inappropriate, Harry didn't believe them for a second). James and Teddy insisted on one last game of Quidditch in the garden.</p><p>And then they'd all just left. Because they didn't live here anymore, and, he thought, looking around at the empty rooms, the wide expanse of empty floors, neither did he. </p><p>By the time he'd dragged all his trunks, Shrunken boxes, and bags through the Floo to Draco's, he was emotionally wrung out, and Draco was nowhere to be found. </p><p>"Good evening, Master Harry!" Lorraine raised one of her fingers and began taking a tally of all his items. "Would sir be liking all of his things up to the fourth floor, or is there being other arrangements? Any special instructions for the unpacking?"</p><p>"Oh, I don't want to trouble you, Lorraine!" Harry said, wincing—he still had no idea how not to feel awkward about making house-elves do work for him. </p><p>"But sir! It is being no trouble! Have you ever seen a house-elf perform unpacking magic?" Her eyes grew wide. "It is <i>very </i>impressive. Won't take me a minute."</p><p>Harry smiled. She reminded him a bit of Dobby. Not all house-elves did—most of them were too serious, too professional. But Lorraine was more…forthright. She saw you when you spoke to her. "No special instructions, then," he said. "You work your magic, and if I want anything in a different place, I can move it later."</p><p>"Master Draco should be home soon. He's working on a case." With a loud <i>crack!</i>, she and all of his baggage disappeared.</p><p>He stood in the entrance hall, alone. Draco's house had never felt unwelcoming before, but then he'd never been here without Draco. </p><p>Holy <i>shit. </i>He <i>lived </i>here now. What had he <i>done</i>?!</p><p>His phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket, thinking it would be something from Draco.</p><p>Notification: <i>A minute of deep breathing can combat stress.</i></p><p>Oh, for fuck's sake.</p><p>He looked around. The entrance hall was less ostentatious than one might imagine, although Harry was dangerously close to invoking the word "vestibule." </p><p>He lived here now. He lived here now with Draco Malfoy. This was fine. </p><p>He wandered into the sitting room, thinking that he'd never felt this out of place in his home since he lived with the Dursleys. He should sit down, he supposed. Draco would want him to sit. </p><p>Harry knew from experience that the sofa was comfortable enough, though clearly not chosen for comfort. It was white. Harry had sat on it many times, but he didn't really want to sit there now, by himself. Maybe he should go help Lorraine. Maybe he should call Ron and have a good old-fashioned freakout—Ron probably wouldn't even blink, as it would come off as Harry being scared of commitment, which was of course a cultural expectation of men. Ron need never know that Harry's freakout was about agreeing to a decade-long marriage of convenience that required him to be Draco Malfoy's roommate in a much-too-fancy townhome with a vestibule.</p><p>"Harry?" </p><p>Harry spun around—Draco had just Apparated inside the front door. </p><p>"You have a vestibule."</p><p>Draco's pale eyebrows drew together. "Well, yes, I suppose. Are you alright? Have you heard from Hermione?"</p><p>"Well yeah, she helped me get my stuff out of the house. Why, should I have heard from her about something?"</p><p>Draco sighed. He let go of his briefcase and it soared through the air into a cupboard, then pointed his wand at his feet and his oxfords disappeared, replaced with a pair of slippers. "Rump is an arsekettle."</p><p>Harry raised his eyebrows. It was rare for Draco to turn household items into expletives. "What did he do now?"</p><p>Draco walked into the sitting room and collapsed onto an armchair. When he looked up, he seemed to be seeing Harry for the first time. "Oh, shit. You moved your stuff over. Do you need help? Is everything here? Should I call Lorraine?"</p><p>Harry sat on the sofa. "It's all done. Lorraine took my stuff up. But forget that, what did Rump do?"</p><p>"He issued a gag order." Draco let his head fall backward, looking up at the chandelier. A fucking chandelier! "It seems like it's aimed specifically at you."</p><p>"At me?! A gag order? About what?"</p><p>Draco pulled his phone out, scrolled for a moment, and handed it to Harry. "The LabMag office got a copy. It will be announced tomorrow."</p><p>
  <i>Starting immediately and until further notice, DMLE will not release any public-facing documents. This includes, but is not limited to, news releases, photos, fact sheets, news feeds, interviews, and social media content. Additionally, employees of the DMLE will not talk to the press in any capacity except as relating to their personal lives, and will not answer questions related to legislation, budgets, policy issues, and regulation.</i>
</p><p>"Holy shit," Harry said, reading it through a second time. "Can we even speak publicly to educate? We have all these programs…" He trailed off. </p><p>He'd known that Rump would attack him, and therefore that he'd attack the DMLE, but this was so soon and so…indiscriminate. The entire department.</p><p>Draco sighed, running a hand through his hair, and slumped. Well, if Harry had moved his body in that way, he would've been slumping. Draco was too posh to slump. On him it looked like some kind of casual lean—you might say he draped himself. Wanker. "Rump knows it's shitty. He wants to make sure everyone knows what an enormous twat waffle he is. That's why they voted for him, after all."</p><p>Harry scanned the policy again. "They've written this so that I can't even talk to the press as Harry Potter with an asterisk clarifying that my thoughts are my own and not representative of the DMLE or the government. They've made it so that I can't talk as a public persona <i>at all</i>, haven't they?"</p><p>Draco had closed his eyes at some point, and he cracked them open lazily and grinned. "See, I knew you always wanted the attention of the press. Public persona." He dragged out the final vowel to preposterous lengths. </p><p>Harry, wondering how many '<i>a</i>'s he would need to type to achieve that effect in text, rolled his eyes, but he couldn't pretend he wasn't amused. "Oh, shut up. It's just, sometimes I have to talk to the press as Harry Potter, head of DMLE. Sometimes I have to talk to the press as Harry Potter, the Saviour. When James was playing for Puddlemere, I sometimes had to be Harry Potter, father of James. It's hard to keep it all straight." He frowned. "I suppose now I sometimes have to be Harry Potter, partner of Draco Malfoy." He let loose a gusty sigh and slumped.</p><p>"Are all the different Harrys meant to say different things?" Draco frowned. </p><p>There was only one Draco Malfoy. Sure, fewer people liked or cared about him than Harry, and his opinion didn't carry as much weight. When people sought out Draco's opinion, they wanted his thoughts on law or policy (they didn't treat him as a barometer of moral and ethical rightness, the way they did Harry), and Draco always gave the same, measured answers, whether he was at a dinner party or arguing a case in the Wizengamot.</p><p>"Eh," Harry said. "There's some overlap. Usually the conflict comes from Harry Potter the Saviour being the poster-child for anti-fascism and Harry Potter the head of DMLE needing to, you know, keep the peace." </p><p>"How do you cope with that?"</p><p>At first Harry thought Draco was being sarcastic, but when he looked up it was clear that Draco's question was genuine. "Er." Harry chuckled nervously. "I don't know. I have a lot of practice making sacrifices for the good of others?" When Draco just stared at him, Harry continued, trying to lighten the mood, "It's kind of my thing, you know."</p><p>"I don't know if the other people in your life sit around laughing about your self-abnegation, but I don't find it funny."</p><p>Harry frowned. "I was just joking."</p><p>"Yes, and I'm just telling you it isn't funny." Draco sat up and changed the subject. "So I suppose you need to follow this gag order. For now, anyway, since it seems too early to get yourself fired. It's better for everyone if you're in the DMLE to keep things from going to shit. Who knows what horrifying policies Rump will enact."</p><p>"What do you think I <i>can </i>talk about, under this policy?" Harry handed Draco's phone, the screen of which had long been dark, back to him.</p><p>"Your kids. Your dashing new lover. Quidditch."</p><p>Harry snorted, then paused, thinking. "None of those personal things are separate from the issues, though. Talking about Albus and Scorpius trying to adopt a baby would automatically be taking a position on queer rights and adoption. Talking about my dashing new lover, who happens to consult for the LabMags, would automatically draw attention to my politics."</p><p>Draco hummed thoughtfully. "Between us, we probably have enough kids—and, in your case, niblings—to talk about all the issues of the day only by discussing our personal lives."</p><p>Harry's brow crinkled. "The fuck is a nibling?"</p><p>"Gender-neutral for niece or nephew," Draco answered quickly before moving on. "But we can't talk about the kids without their permission. We should start with me. I mean, the dashing lover angle."</p><p>"Huh?" Harry was still caught up on <i>nibling</i>.</p><p>"We grant an interview. All the publications are clamoring for one—they all want to get the exclusive tell-all about our relationship."</p><p>It was true—they knew they'd have to give an interview soon. Much of the public had been wrapped up by the star-crossed lovers angle and didn't seem inclined to rest until they had evidence that the couple was together and happy despite the odds. "It could work. Give the public the story they want and give a little fuck-you to Rump."</p><p>"We would let them take photos of us in the house, et cetera."</p><p>Harry brightened. "But really the entire interview would be stuffed with political positions?"</p><p>Draco grinned. "But who can say if it is a position or not? We will merely be discussing our personal lives."</p><p>"And what happens at home is <i>never</i> political," Harry continued, smiling.</p><p>"Never," Draco returned, laughing. "And on that note I suppose we should discuss the fact that you moved into my house today."</p><p>"It's <i>our</i> house now," Harry said, defensive. "Don't be a prat."</p><p>"Yes, that reminds me," Draco said, half standing and peering around the room. "Where's my bag? I need you to sign the papers that will add you to the deed."</p><p>Harry's eyebrows shot up. "What?"</p><p>"It's only fair. You live here now; you're selling your house. We're getting married."</p><p>"But—it's your house. This house probably costs, what?" Harry stood and spun around inspecting the moulding. "Six or seven million pounds? What's that in Galleons, like two million? You can't just <i>give me </i>a million Galleons."</p><p>Draco stood and approached Harry. "First of all, I can do whatever the fuck I want with my money. Second of all, it's not only the right thing to do but also necessary. Why on earth would we not put both names on the deed? It would be suspicious. As if Harry Potter wouldn't have any property assets." Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Draco interrupted. "Frankly, you already agreed to this when you agreed to marry me."</p><p>"You know what?" Harry said, finding that he had negative fucks to give about this. "Fine. You can give me as much money as you want, any time."</p><p>"Thank you."</p><p>"You're welcome. I plan to spend as much as possible on Puddlemere United throw blankets and Gryffindor Alumni furnishings."</p><p>Draco walked out of the room muttering incomprehensibly, then spoke up. "Well come on, then. Let's see what Lorraine's done on the fourth floor, and I'll give you the run-down of things about this house you should know now you're living here."</p><p>Harry followed. </p><p>"The water doesn't get hot enough in the third floor bath unless you use a Charm. There's a thriving magical aquarium inside one of the toilet tanks—Scorpius Charmed that when he was younger and couldn't bear to get rid of it. Supper is at seven unless I'm stuck at work, in which case I always let Lorraine know." He paused, halfway up the stairs. "And you. I'll always let Lorraine and you know."</p><p>Harry resisted the impulse to cross his arms protectively over his chest. It was all just so awkward. </p><p>Draco sighed. "Look, I don't want you to feel like a prisoner here. It's your house now, and it's plenty big enough for both of us. You're welcome anywhere. You can search through my drawers and read all my papers, snoop in my cosmetic potions. It's not like that Muggle film where the Sphinx shouts, <i>It is forbidden!</i>"</p><p>Taking a moment to catch up, Harry blinked, then corrected, "Beast."</p><p>"Yes," Draco replied slowly, "Sphinxes are Beasts despite their intelligence and capacity for human speech."</p><p>"Right. Well, thanks." Harry realised from the look on Draco's face that Draco was trying to do the right thing—he was feeling guilty that Harry was giving up his life, such as it was. "Really, Draco. Thank you. Though I never really identified with Beauty." That was a lie; of course he did. <i>Take me instead. </i>He just never identified with the romance part.</p><p>Draco's eyes flitted to Harry's hair. "No." His mouth twisted in a mocking smile. "You wouldn't."</p><p>Harry shot a Stinging Hex at Draco's arse as they continued up the stairs. Draco's outraged and delighted laugh rang through the stairwell, echoing like the clear sound of a welcoming bell.</p><p>
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</p><p>Harry's spoonful of Crunchy Nut Cornflakes—it had taken him a few weeks to get a sufficient stock of ready-made foods in Draco's house—was halfway to his mouth when Draco spoke.</p><p>"I think we should talk about sex."</p><p>Harry froze, milk sloshing off his spoon. He blinked, then waved his left hand to Vanish the mess as he put his spoonful back into the bowl. "You think what?"</p><p>Draco looked flustered, but undeterred. "I certainly don't expect you to take a vow of celibacy for the next decade, so it seems prudent to discuss logistics."</p><p>"What are you talking about?"</p><p>Draco sighed, then pushed his politician hair off his forehead. "We're talking about how we can manage to have sex while continuing to convince people that we are a besmitten couple."</p><p>"I don't think besmitten is a word."</p><p>Draco continued speaking without acknowledging Harry. "Taking someone home will be…difficult. Certainly risky."</p><p>"Draco."</p><p>"An escort service would be more circumspect, though I expect you may have ethical qualms."</p><p>"<i>Draco.</i>"</p><p>"We might be able to have lovers sign a non-disclosure agreement, tell them we have an open marriage but that it can't leak to the public."</p><p>Harry grew tired of being ignored. He stood and leaned into Draco's space. "Draco, shut the fuck up. I am not using an escort or bringing anyone home. Getting laid is…complicated for me at the best of times. It's not important."</p><p>"You say that now," Draco said, thrusting a long finger into Harry's space. "But five years from now you may well need to…attend to personal business.And it's better if we discuss it now, when it's theoretical, rather than later, when it's…imminent."</p><p>Harry couldn't decide between bursting out laughing and dropping his jaw in horror, so ended up spluttering. "<i>Attend to personal business</i>?"</p><p>Draco's face reddened. "Personal…genital business."</p><p>"Personal. Genital. Business."</p><p>"I'm not judging!" Draco insisted. "I'm being the responsible adult here."</p><p>Harry could only stare at him. After a moment, he added, "I would've thought pure-bloods had better sex euphemisms than that."</p><p>"My father used to say 'take one's crup on a constitutional.'"</p><p>"He did not."</p><p>"Yes he did."</p><p>After a long moment, Harry added, "Did he also talk about taking his hippogriff on a holiday?"</p><p>"Be serious."</p><p>Harry quelled a smile. "Sorry, it's just. Nevermind. I gave a sex talk to James. I gave <i>multiple</i> sex talks to James. It's important it's not just a one-time thing. In any case, my point is I can do anything, if I did that."</p><p>"Quite right. In any case, how will we handle hypothetical…"</p><p>"Hippogriff holidays?"</p><p>"Precisely."</p><p>"Spell a sock onto the doorknob?"</p><p>"Potter!" </p><p>Draco was really getting agitated now, and Harry couldn't stop his laughter. "Look, Draco, if I'm completely honest, I haven't had sex outside of a relationship….ever. Wait no, once, which confirmed that I'm not interested in it. I'm old. I know how to deal with my libido. I can…what did you say?…attend to my genitals on my own."</p><p>Draco frowned. "There's so much there to address." He sighed. "Okay first, when you say you will 'attend to business on your own,' are you talking about masturbating—exclusively—for the remainder of our pretend relationship? Or are you saying that you can handle the logistics of having sex with someone else without involving me? Because if it's the former, you're more of a martyr than even I had thought, and if it's the latter, absolutely not. We need to plan this together."</p><p>Harry closed his eyes for a moment, for strength. "I'm not a martyr. I'm a human being who knows what he wants, and what he wants doesn't include sex with awkward, star-struck strangers. Sex isn't all that important to me when I'm single. And we already decided that if I somehow fall in love with someone, this whole thing is off anyway. So it's irrelevant."</p><p>When Harry looked up, Draco was frowning at his eggs. </p><p>"Er," Harry stammered, "of course, we can discuss <i>your</i> sex life. I am well aware that everyone's different, including our, er, needs of the genital variety."</p><p>"I used to get off with strangers all the time," Draco said suddenly, looking up. "Before Astoria. Like, <i>all </i>the time. Then I was married and had a kid and that was done. And even after Astoria and I split…the club scene had lost its appeal. I was too invested in Scorpius, I think. Stuff like that didn't seem important anymore."</p><p>"So you don't…have sex anymore?" Harry asked, wincing at this entire conversation and, indeed, at his entire life.</p><p>"Of course I do," Draco snapped. "When it's convenient. With amenable co-workers, usually. I pretty much always get laid at the Magical Solicitors' Union annual conference."</p><p>"You know what?" Harry said, holding up a hand. "I've decided this is TMI."</p><p>"My point is, it isn't a problem for me either." Draco paused, and if Harry was right, he was trying to figure out how to retain any dignity in this conversation. "Sex isn't a regular occurrence in my life, either, and it's not a problem for me to abstain."</p><p>So what were they hashing out, anyway? "I guess we just need to agree that, if this changes, we'll discuss it. When it, er, comes up."</p><p>"Alright," Draco said primly, spearing a bite of eggs. </p><p>"I can't believe I'm sitting here discussing a decade's worth of masturbation with you."</p><p>Draco stared at him for a long moment. "Likewise. In movies where heroes save the world, it never involves this."</p><p>Harry nodded. "I feel lied to."</p><p>"Indeed."</p><p>It seemed, suddenly, a bit silly. Here they were discussing the need to abstain from sex to keep their cover, when their exact situation provided them with a person to have sex with. Just like Harry couldn't talk about their fake relationship with anyone else, but he could talk about it with Draco. Was it really any different?</p><p>"If you ever decide that the hippogriff needs a holiday away from, er, the hand, as it were, I could always help you out." Harry froze. It had sounded rational in his head, until he said it aloud and realised he'd just offered to have sex with Draco Malfoy. Did he <i>mean</i> that?! It was only sex. Only, it was <i>sex.</i> Eh, he'd do it. It was only sex—bodies, penises, ani, friction. Bada bing, bada boom. After a few decades of parenthood, most bodily functions had lost their mystique.</p><p>Draco stared at him for a full five seconds. "Potter, your whole saving-people thing is a lot more extensive than I'd assumed. Have you ever discussed this with a Mindhealer?"</p><p>"Har har har," Harry said, though he <i>had</i> discussed it with a Mindhealer for most of the twenty-teens. "Don't take me up on it, then. No one's forcing you."</p><p>Draco turned his attention aggressively towards his eggs.</p><p>
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<hr/><p>
  <span class="font-white">...</span>
</p><p>"The house is being immaculate," Lorraine said, her big eyes traveling around the room.</p><p>Harry laid on the sofa staring at the chandelier. "I once watched Lee drink a cauldron of beer mixed with marshmallow fluff on a dare. I really don't think it matters how clean the house is."</p><p>"That was before he was a famous, well-respected journalist," Draco snapped. Draco was nervous. "He won a Magical Britain Journalism Award!"</p><p>"I still watched him drink beer-mallow out of a cauldron," Harry mumbled.</p><p>"Well I didn't." Draco Vanished one book off the shelf. Harry wondered which book he'd deemed unacceptable. "He hated me in school."</p><p>"I wonder why."</p><p>"He's very good-looking, isn't he?"</p><p>Harry pushed up onto his elbows. Draco was staring into a mirror, adjusting his collar. "What the fuck does that matter? You can't <i>pick him up</i>, Draco. You realise we need to convince him we're head over heels for each other."</p><p>"I'm not trying to pick him up," Draco sneered. "Honestly. I just want this to go well. I'm not sure I'm happy with the house. Should we Conjure some leftist tchotchkes?"</p><p> "Leftist tchotchkes?" Harry sat up, ready to bodily intervene. "Like what? A tiny crystal sickle and hammer?"</p><p>Draco paused, and Harry had the horrible premonition that he might actually like a crystal sickle and hammer.</p><p>"Draco, I was fucking joking. You can't have a crystal hammer and sickle. I know it's hard for you to remember, what with your being all…Malfoyish. But that would quite defeat the purpose."</p><p>"You're right. I'm a centrist, anyway. We wouldn't want to send the wrong message." Draco waved his wand and a crystal dove appeared. He cocked his head to the side, considering it. </p><p>Harry wasn't going to say anything to scare Draco off the leftist agenda, but he couldn't help but muse delightedly that Draco, for all he called himself a centrist, was few leagues left of centre these days.</p><p>"Oh!" Harry said, somehow swept up in Draco's desire for their decor to reflect their politics. He waved his wand in a silent Accio. A moment later a frame zoomed down the staircase and into Harry's outstretched hand. He walked over to the mantel and set it next to Draco's dove.</p><p>Draco leaned over to inspect it. "Is this…what is this?"</p><p>It was a piece of art that said <i>LOVE IS LOVE IS LOVE IS LOVE IS LOVE IS LOVE. </i>"It's signed by Lin-Manuel Miranda. We got it signed when we were in New York to see Hamilton. We took Scorpius. Remember?"</p><p>Draco turned to look at Harry, his grey eyes looking for something in a way that made Harry feel uncomfortable.</p><p>"Right," Draco said eventually. "It's perfect." Then he frowned and waved his wand, changing the frame.</p><p>Harry rolled his eyes, even though the frame did look better.</p><p>"He's here!" Lorraine called, bustling past them toward the Floo to greet their guest.</p><p>"Are you ready?" Draco asked, reaching over to fuss with Harry's hair.</p><p>Harry swatted him away. "Calm down. It's going to be fine. We're just putting on a little show, we can do that. I'm playing Harry Potter, helplessly in love with a blond Slytherin despite all his better instincts."</p><p>Draco snorted and opened his mouth to reply, but they were interrupted by the sound of the Floo.</p><p>Lee Jordan had never stopped "speaking truth to power," in his words. When the war ended, Potterwatch didn't continue, but Lee did. He travelled to the US and reported on racial politics and the magical community; when he returned to the UK he wrote a book about the ways in which xenophobia functioned in Magical Britain, and the ways in which race remained a salient factor in the lives of magical people. He had a popular column in <i>The Alliance</i> for a few years, and now he pretty much chose what he would write about and when.</p><p>Lee walked into the room with Lorraine. He wore his hair in long dreads; he had a denim waistcoat overtop a purple shirt—on anyone else it would've looked ridiculous, but Lee pulled off everything he did through sheer confidence.</p><p>Harry bounded towards him and wrapped him in a one-armed hug. "Mate! It's been too long."</p><p>"Hazza P!" Lee enthused, whacking him lovingly on the back.</p><p>"Welcome to our home," Draco said, stiffly sticking out his hand.</p><p>Lee turned toward him slowly. "Malfoy," he said and shook Draco's hand.</p><p>"Come on in," Harry said quickly, wanting nothing more than to dispel all awkwardness. "Thank you so much for agreeing to write about us. We realise it's a step down from the importance of your usual work."</p><p>Lee scoffed and sat in Draco's armchair, leaving the two of them to sit close to each other on the sofa. "Writing about you could never be a step down. Plus, with this gag order! What's the plan? How are we going to fuck Rump? The only think Pav told me was that she wants people rooting for your relationship." He paused, his eyes flitting to Draco. "It's a bit…surprising, after all."</p><p>"Legally I can only talk about my personal life," Harry said. "As it happens, my personal life is quite political."</p><p>Lee laughed delightedly. "Always has been, mate. Okay, start at the beginning. Well, no. I don't want to hear about Hogwarts. Tell me about how you went from former-enemy-in-laws to lovers."</p><p>"We've spent a good deal of time together for ages, because of our sons."</p><p>"Albus Severus and Scorpius Potter-Malfoy," Lee clarified.</p><p>"Yes," Draco said, and Harry got the impression that he wanted to be more involved in this interview but didn't know how to interact with Lee. "They were best friends since they started at Hogwarts, so it's been almost twenty years that they've been close."</p><p>"Has it been that long?" Harry asked in horror, momentarily forgetting this was an interview and they'd planned out responses as best they could.</p><p>Draco raised an eyebrow, smiling a bit. "It has."</p><p>"In any case, we've spent a lot of time together. And," Harry paused, exhaling. "It's hard for me to find people to date who understand my life."</p><p>"What do you mean?" Lee asked. "Surely everyone knows all the details of your life."</p><p>"They know the facts," Harry said. He turned to look at Draco, and Draco gave him an encouraging nod, then reached over slightly awkwardly to hold Harry's hand. "But they don't know what it was like. Watching people die. Our mates from Hogwarts understand, to some extent, and Ron and Hermione, of course. And Ginny. If I'd found lasting love with someone in that group, it would've been straightforward, I suppose."</p><p>"And Draco understands?" Lee asked without judgment, with a journalistic detachment that was kind of jarring.</p><p>Draco squeezed Harry's hand. "I saw the worst of the war, like Harry did. The only difference is that I was a coward while Harry was brave. I only hope the people of Magical Britain can accept my life's work as penance for all the pain in which I was implicated."</p><p>Draco sounded too stiff, too scripted.</p><p>"If you just watched telly, you'd think relationships required nothing but physical attraction. That's not true. They require a lot of things, primarily that you <i>get</i> each other in a way that other people don't. Draco gets me."</p><p>"And Harry gets me," Draco said plainly. Harry wondered if it was an honest statement.</p><p>"How do you deal with the fact that you fought on different sides?" Lee asked, looking at them with interest.</p><p>"Draco was a prat as a teenager, but most of his actions in the war were under coercion from Voldemort." Harry met Lee's eye. "In a way, I think I have more respect for Draco living through that than I do for many people who claim to have been anti-Voldemort, but who didn't do anything during the war."</p><p>Harry refused to get into specifics about the war, but he couldn't stop seeing the image of a young, scared Draco refusing to identify him at the Manor. Of Draco unable to kill Dumbledore. He may have been an arsehole, but he did more than anyone who hid in their homes. He understood in a way others didn't—that wasn't a lie.</p><p>"And now?"</p><p>Draco leaned forward without dropping Harry's hand. "Our families are already integrated, we have similar interests, we work for the same causes. We spent a lot of time together campaigning for Penelope Clearwater."</p><p>"Would you say working on the campaign brought you two together?"</p><p>"In a way, it did," Harry said, pleased that they were almost but not quite directly discussing their political affiliations. Parvati had wanted them to talk about the Clearwater campaign. "It's hot to see someone fighting for a cause you believe in."</p><p>Draco turned towards Harry, raising an eyebrow. "Is that so?"</p><p>Harry flushed. It was, kind of. Even if he hadn't actually wanted to sleep with him. "Sure."</p><p>"And what about you, Draco?" Lee pushed. "When did you know you were in love with Harry Potter?"</p><p>"Oh, the whole country is in love with Harry Potter. Surely that can't even count as a question."</p><p>Lee sat up straighter. "But when did you know you wanted to be in a relationship with him, that you were attracted to him on a personal level?"</p><p>"Sometime after he expressed interest and before we moved in together," Draco answered evasively.</p><p>"Answer the question," Lee said in that way journalists sometimes have.</p><p>Annoyed, Draco dropped Harry's hand. "Long enough. Okay, Jordan?"</p><p>Lee raised his eyebrows and sat back. "Alright. What do you say to skeptics who think it's convenient for your relationship to break so soon after Rump's election?"</p><p>"Love doesn't wait for political timelines," Draco said, his voice sounding perfectly outraged that someone would question their relationship, despite the fact that their relationship was in fact a total farce.</p><p>"We'd been working together on Penelope's campaign, and helping Albus and Scorpius as they are trying to adopt a baby, and it just happened. I'm 55 years old. I'm not putting off happiness in my life anymore."</p><p>"Quite right," Draco echoed. "At some point you need to stop caring what other people think about you and do what makes you happy and fulfilled."</p><p>"Doing Harry makes you happy and fulfilled?" Lee asked cheekily, looking for all the world like he used to when commentating for Quidditch matches.</p><p>"Indeed," Draco said, without missing a beat. </p><p>Harry spluttered. "Draco!" </p><p>Draco grinned. "What? There's no sense mincing words."</p><p>It was all an act. It was an act, and yet somehow it felt better than Harry's last few relationships. When he'd been forced to answer questions about past relationships, Harry always felt awkward and like he was somehow letting people down, or like his relationship was going to be judged lacking, or like people would think him pathetic and incapable of love.</p><p>With Draco, there was none of that. There was only bickering and talking about their lives, and it felt normal, somehow.</p><p>"We play Quidditch still, despite Draco's old man knee," Harry blurted. It had started a few years ago, at James's insistence, every time they got together with Scorpius and Draco. Harry loved playing Quidditch with his kids—and James could out-fly him any day of the week, but it wasn't the same as going up against Draco. Trying to get the Quaffle from James always felt a little bit like Harry was teaching James on his safety-broom and pretending to let him win. Trying to get the Quaffle from Draco felt like he was back at Hogwarts with stands full of students cheering and screaming.</p><p>"Old-man knee," Draco said, tsking. "My knee is fine. It's your brain that's going."</p><p>Lee laughed. "Who usually wins?"</p><p>"James," they said in unison, looking at each other in surprise and laughing.</p><p> "What do you say to critics who think you're moving too quickly, moving in together?"</p><p>Harry tossed his arm over Draco's shoulders and tugged him tight. "When I was a teenager and first had an inkling that I might not be…particularly hetero, there were almost no role models for me to turn to. I only found out later that Dumbledore had been gay, in secret, all that time. What shit is that for a queer kid? The only person who might be able to point you in the right direction, keeping it a secret from you rather than wearing it proudly? I only found out later, from Rita Skeeter, of all people. What message was I supposed to take from that? That being queer sentenced people to lives of loneliness and bachelorhood?"</p><p>Draco turned to look at Harry, their heads very close together because of how Harry had tugged him close.</p><p>"I refuse to let that kind of nonsense continue," Harry said. "If I'm in love with Draco, I want every queer kid in our nation to see it and to know that we're here, and we're happy, and that love is possible. I want our lives to be a giant 'fuck you' to all of that." Harry laughed, scrubbing his left hand over his face. "You can't print that, can you? I just want to say—we're in love, we're happy, and since that's the case, there can be no such thing as 'too soon.' We demand happiness, in full, right now. If I have to be a celebrity, I'm going to be one that queer kids can look up to."</p><p>Harry's eyes flitted towards Draco, and then he froze—shocked to see the ghost of tears in the corners of Draco's grey eyes. </p><p>"What?" Harry asked.</p><p>Draco leaned forward and kissed him, a big, eager, closed-mouth sort of kiss, and it took Harry completely by surprise.</p><p>When Harry turned back to Lee, he was blinking at them in amusement.</p><p>"Jordan, you want to know why I love Harry?" Draco asked, finally seeming at ease in this interview. "That's why."</p><p>Harry almost wished it were real.</p><p>He hadn't said anything about Rump, but all the things that they knew about Rump swirled in the background—all his bigoted remarks about queer people and trans magical folk, all his othering of anyone different, all his disgusting oppression and hatred. His message was clear.</p><p>After a moment of silence, Lee said, "Let's get some photos? I told my photographer to wait outside until I called her in, but now I'm really wishing she'd been here to snap a photo of that kiss."</p><p>Harry's cheeks were red, and he felt a bit confused by all this, but he smiled. They were doing the right thing. "Yes, photos. I'll even let him kiss me again."</p><p>Draco elbowed him in the ribs, and Harry burst out laughing.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Summer 2036</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry couldn't find his favourite jeans. His head was buried deep in his wardrobe, and he was trying to avoid spelling the entire contents out of the wardrobe and dresser out onto the floor. </p><p>"Harry!" Draco's muffled voice called. </p><p>Harry sighed. He'd been looking for almost an hour. Well, no. He kept getting interrupted. He'd had a call from James, asking how to repair a problem with his wards. Then he'd been Flooed by Jorgen about an important memo that had landed on Harry's desk (on a bloody Saturday morning). Then Lily'd had a question about broom insurance. Harry wouldn't say no to his child, despite the fact that there was little he hated more than insurance paperwork.</p><p>"HARRY!" </p><p>Harry almost jumped out of his skin. Draco's voice was so loud it was like standing in front of a speaker at a concert. Fucking Sonorus.</p><p>Harry, annoyed, left his search—again—and marched downstairs. When he got to the breakfast area, Draco was sitting at the table reading something, wand pointed at his throat as if in preparation to deafen Harry again. </p><p>"What?!" Harry asked.</p><p>"Oh good, you're here, I—" Draco turned to look at him and abruptly stopped, his eyes dropping to Harry's bare legs. </p><p>Harry was wearing no bottoms, but he <i>was </i>wearing a pair of red boxer briefs, and he refused to let Draco shame him. "I've been trying to find my jeans for the better part of an hour. But apparently none of my children or employees can do anything without help from me and I keep getting interrupted." He shot what he hoped was a meaningful glance at Draco, who was, he hoped Draco realised, <i>also </i>interrupting. </p><p>Some parts of living with Draco had become routine quickly. Lorraine ringing the bell for supper at 7 o'clock on the dot, eating next to Draco while they talked about their days, solitary morning walks to Primrose Hill. He'd even figured out how to use Draco's fussy cafetière to avoid bothering Lorraine.</p><p>Other parts, not so much. His clothes kept disappearing. He wasn't sure when telly-watching was welcomed (Draco <i>said</i> any time, but Harry had a feeling this was not an accurate reflection of Draco's house's norms, so he always felt like he was doing something wrong if he turned it on). He kind of hated that his (extremely posh) bedroom was down the hall from his (extremely posh) bathroom, which meant he either needed to carry his clothes and change in the fogged bathroom, or walk around the hall in a towel, which was probably fine, because Draco was almost never there, but <i>still</i>. And he knew he could eat Draco's food, but were there limits to that? What if that box of fancy biscuits was being saved for something? </p><p>Harry felt like he was constantly in public, always 'on'. He looked down at his knobby knees. He simply couldn't be 'on' all the time. </p><p>"You needed something?" Harry asked pointedly, snapping his fingers at the level of his eyes. </p><p>Draco blinked, stoically looking away from Harry's legs. He seemed to visibly gather his equanimity, and when he met Harry's eyes, all traces of fluster were gone. "Would you care to put trousers on before I tell you news of international importance?" When Harry didn't answer, he continued, "I'm not sure how you usually approach these things. Perhaps minor news items can be relayed whilst nude, whereas important news items require full dress?"</p><p>Harry rolled his eyes. "Get on with it."</p><p>"Rump announced he's withdrawing Magical Britain from the ICW."</p><p><i>Shit. </i>Harry's eyes widened. "He announced…his intention? Or announced that it's happening?"</p><p>"That it's happening. He claims he doesn't need approval of the Wizengamot or of voters, blasted system as it is."</p><p>"But!" Harry dropped into the chair opposite Draco. "We've been members of the ICW since the sixteenth century!"</p><p>"I know." Draco pinched his nose.</p><p>The International Confederation of Wizards was not exactly the type of organisation Harry enjoyed thinking about, or Merlin forbid, being asked to testify in front of. It was bureaucratic, ceremonial, and pretty much all talk, no action. It was like a Ravenclaw's wet dream, sitting around debating international unity while never actually fucking doing anything.</p><p>That said, Harry and every sane person wanted to remain a part of the ICW. It was necessary. The magical people of the world needed to have accountability, communication—needed to feel that they had common cause. If Britain left…</p><p>"But! If we pull out, the entire Statute of Secrecy will be threatened." Harry slumped back in his chair. "It's only international pressure that forces nations to comply."</p><p>"Harry," Draco said, weary, his eyes closed and nose still pinched, "you know I hate it when people say 'pull out' in the context of treaties and/or membership from organisations. I'm already being tested by the Minister, I don't need to be further antagonised by your regrettable turns of phrase. There's no rhythm method of international politics."</p><p>Harry glared. "My point remains."</p><p>"Yes, I know." Draco opened his eyes. "Not to mention what it means for the Muggle Mediation Measures."</p><p>Harry let his head drop to the table. "I hadn't even thought about the Triple M."</p><p>The Muggle Mediation Measures was a programme run by the ICW to prevent the worst effects of what Supreme Mugwump Geneviève Chéreau referred to as "Muggle mismanagement of the Earth." (Well, she called it "mauvaise gestion non magique de la terre," but the British had landed on 'Muggle mismanagement' and 'Muggle Mediation Measures,' because the Ministry loved alliteration when acronyms weren't to be had.) The Triple M was tedious, difficult-to-organise labour—magical people in every country and continent had to work together to try to stop ocean desalination, animal extinction, deforestation, and so on. And it was thankless work—the Muggles continued to ruin the planet, making the Triple M (which Ron insisted on referring to as "mmmmmmm") seem ineffective when it was actually working, only against impossible and ever growing odds. No one wanted to pay for it. And yet, it was important work. If Britain left…</p><p>A Stinging Hex hit Harry's head and he sprung off the table, wrinkling his brow. "Ow."</p><p>"Sit up, Potter. Don't be dramatic," Draco said, then slumped gracefully into his hand. "The entire world is going up in flames. The LabMags haven't even figured out a way to deal with the ban on foreign magic yet, and now this."</p><p>"Are the British magical people working for the Triple M employees of the programme, or will they get pulled out of their jobs when we are no longer members?"</p><p>"<i>Harry</i>. 'Pulled out.'"</p><p>"Oh for the love of…"</p><p>"I'm not sure. I'll make a note to ask our Labour Secretary. We can see about supporting the work even if we're not a member nation."</p><p>"Okay, wait, fuck." Harry waved his wand to Conjure a sheet of paper and a biro. "We need to come up with a plan. I keep asking people at work to figure out what the DMLE can do to mitigate this foreign magic thing, and all they keep doing is scheduling more and more meetings.  I don't fucking trust anyone else to actually get anything done, so it's you and me." He picked up the biro, pulled the cap off, and started chewing it. "Where should we start?"</p><p>Draco waved his wand and Vanished the biro cap from Harry's teeth. </p><p>"Hey!"</p><p>"We need two lists," Draco said, ignoring Harry. "One for the foreign magic ban and one for the ICW slash Triple M."</p><p>Harry wrote "FOREIGN MAGIC BAN" on the top of the paper. "Can we try to come up with a list of spells that are arguably domestic but that people think of as foreign? Then we could put those on the list of approved DMLE spells and try to trigger an inquiry that invalidates the law?" Harry stopped. "No—I don't want to put my employees on the line, not knowing what Rump will do. But <i>I </i>could use the spells in public when I'm on duty."</p><p>Draco nodded. "Yes. Good. We should ask Lily for help. She's good with languages, right? She could help make a list."</p><p>Draco looked up, and Harry found himself staring. Draco was pushing his hair off his face and looking at Harry in such an open way—not acting strange because Harry was the Saviour, not expecting Harry to have magical ability to fix things because he killed Voldemort, just seeing Harry for who he was and being willing to do the work together. Harry felt a flush rise from his chest and up his neck. He hadn't known that Draco knew so much about Lily. </p><p>"Er, yes. She would be able to help."</p><p>Draco nodded and grabbed the paper and pen, writing "ICW/MMM" in his neat handwriting atop the back. </p><p>This—this entire government—was such a disaster. Harry was only able to keep from freaking out through taking action. Lists. Lists were good. And how had he come to a place in his life where he liked lists? Lists were evidence that they were <i>doing</i> something.</p><p>"We should have a third list," Harry said. </p><p>Draco looked up, his hair falling over one eye. "A third? For what?"</p><p>"About our wedding." </p><p>Draco's eyebrows rose in surprise.</p><p>"We said we wanted to do it as soon as possible, so that it was old news by the election. We have the public's approval, thanks to Parvati and Lavender. The kids are all fine. So…we should start planning. Right?"</p><p>Draco waited a beat too long. "Of course. As we agreed." He wrote <i>"</i>Nuptials" halfway down the page.</p><p>Harry's heart was racing. He took a deep breath—however much anxiety he had about this whole fake marriage thing they were doing, he needed to push through. He'd have to look to see if he still had any of his low-dose Calming Draught upstairs.</p><p>"Maybe I'll Floo Lily and see if she can come over."</p><p>"Good idea," Draco said, head bent over the paper. "Lorraine can get magi-linguistic books from the Manor's library, if she needs."</p><p>Harry stood and headed for the Floo.</p><p>"Harry."</p><p>He turned. Draco dropped his eyes meaningfully to Harry's nude bottom half. </p><p><i>Fuck. </i>Harry changed direction, heading towards the stairs. Where the fuck were his jeans? </p><p>And had he just <i>proposed</i>, sort of?</p><p>
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</p><p>"Seriously, listen," Albus said, his mouth full of mashed potatoes. "We start a page on social media geared towards Gen Z. We make some graphics telling people how they can resist Rump."</p><p>"Like mini resistance campaigns," Scorpius added, eyes flitting between Harry and Draco. "Because people want to do something but don't know the best way to take action. We need <i>coordination</i>."</p><p>"Coordination of random people on the internet?" Draco asked, looking supremely skeptical.</p><p>"Yes! The Muggles have been doing it for decades." Albus twirled his fork in his fingers as he talked. "But like, here's an example of how it could work. Dad used <i>Bhram Kee Jaanch Karen</i> in public, so Rump released an enumerated list of prohibited spells and made them all Taboo. But what now? We can't just leave it at that."</p><p>"I still can't believe he had the nerve to ban a spell Aurors have been using for decades that checks for illusions." Harry shook his head. Well, he believed it, but it was one of those things where you wanted to keep saying <i>I can't believe it</i> over and over even though you were thoroughly past the point of surprise.</p><p>"The WCLU is already working on it," Draco reminded Albus. "The Ministry has no right to surveil people with a Taboo like that."</p><p>"We can't wait for the WCLU!" Scorpius looked wounded at the thought. "That could be months or years."</p><p>No one could argue with that. The Wizengamot was notoriously glacial (unless they were launching a full inquiry against a fifteen-year-old, but Harry tried not to harp on that too much lest he be accused of holding a grudge).</p><p>Albus nodded aggressively. "We know which spells on that list of Taboo spells probably wouldn't hold up as 'foreign' in the Wiz! You and Lily did all that research on spell etymology. If we use social media to tell people which spells to use, like civil disobedience, we can do direct action! Flood the Ministry with thousands of Taboo violations all at once—make their Taboo completely useless."</p><p>Harry watched Albus with a burst of love and pride. Albus looked so like Harry's younger self, green eyes blazing with conviction and outrage, with the belief that things could change. Harry didn't look like that these days. When had Harry become so jaded? So…old? His first instinct upon hearing this social media plan was to dismiss it out of hand, but it was exactly the sort of thing he would've loved when he was young. </p><p>"It's a great idea, Al," Harry said, smiling. "I never would've thought of that. This is why we need intergenerational protest. The problem is, that kind of protest can't be tied to this family. With my position and Draco's position…it would be a disaster."</p><p>"Oh, of <i>course</i>," Scorpius said, leaning forward. "We would create it in a totally untraceable way."</p><p>"You can make websites Untraceable?" Teddy asked with curiosity from the other side of the table.</p><p>"No, I meant little-u untraceable, not capital-U Untraceable. Just using Muggle methods." Scorpius grinned conspiratorially. "Albus and I learned how to hatchet."</p><p>"How to <i>hack</i>," Albus corrected. "And yes, we're excellent at it."</p><p>Harry and Draco had been hosting Friday night dinners with all the kids, including Nico, who was finally growing on Harry,— since Harry moved in. It was—nice. Nice to see everyone at once and to have a busy, bustling house. Nice to not be the only parent in a room full of adult children, a situation in which Harry never knew how to act. (Was he meant to join in their drinking games or excuse himself to the other room? Neither felt quite right, but without another adult around, there never seemed to be a perfect solution.) But now, if the kids wandered off to another room, huddled together over some web app or meme, Harry wasn't left alone. He and Draco could, like, retire to the parlour for cigars and brandy, leaving the kids to do their thing. Well, they <i>could</i> do that if they were pretentious wankers, which they weren't, but Harry appreciated the company, cigars or no cigars. </p><p>Harry half-listened to Nico and Scorpius discussing hacking, a concept that he had only the most tenuous understanding of, and served himself a second bread roll. Draco, sitting on his right, caught his eye and gave him A Look. Harry tried to convey <i>not right now</i> with his eyebrows while chewing a bite of buttered bread. Draco rolled his eyes slightly as he turned back to his food, and Harry noticed the way his fingers fiddled with agita under the table, out of sight of everyone else.</p><p>"Hey Dad," James said, and it was clear from the look on his face that he wanted something. If possible, James's poker face was worse than Harry's. "Can I borrow your Invisibility Cloak?"</p><p>"What for?" Harry knew that James was capable of producing a perfectly functional Disillusionment, because he'd used it to try to trick Harry on multiple occasions. The cloak, meanwhile, lived in a locked cabinet.</p><p>Teddy leaned back in his chair, the front legs rising off the floor, and gave James a shit-eating grin. "Who is she?"</p><p>James rolled his eyes.</p><p>"Who is she?!" Teddy repeated, laughing delightedly. He turned to the rest of the table. "James uses the cloak to show off to the ladies."</p><p>"Don't say 'the ladies' like that, Teds," Lily said, wrinkling her nose. "It makes you sound like a douche."</p><p>Harry dropped his head dramatically into his hand, looking away from the chaos of his progeny. He heard Draco laugh, then froze when Draco put his hand on Harry's shoulder, rubbing it back and forth like a lover would do to provide comfort. To provide somewhat <i>mocking</i> comfort, in this case, but like a lover just the same. </p><p>The pretending to be Draco's lover, on the whole, was strange. It was largely strange because most of the time, Harry forgot about it. They went about their lives—in closer proximity to each other than before, to be sure—but acting much the same as always. But then, when other people were around, there were moments like this—him touching Draco or Draco touching him—and Harry never quite saw the latter coming. He continually forgot that he was supposed to be pretending, and then Draco would do something like this and Harry would be hyper aware of the heat of Draco's hand on his shoulder—of the way that an unfamiliar touch felt twenty times more noticeable than it should. It made tingles erupt down his spine, and he sat up, turning to look at Draco and giving a smile he hoped the kids would think looked content.</p><p>Draco lifted his hand from Harry's shoulder, as if to pull away, but then seemed to change his mind and put it back down. He cleared his throat.</p><p>Oh, Merlin. Draco was going to say it.</p><p>He cleared his throat again, and waited until he had everyone's undivided attention. "Harry and I have something to say. We've decided to get married."</p><p>The room grew noticeably quiet. Harry's stomach was in knots—the kids were going to realise. They were going to realise that Harry didn't really want to ever get married again, that it was too fast, that he and Draco could never love each other like this. They'd put two and two together and they'd realise that this was a calculated decision designed to garner votes, not a moment of love and celebration. He almost wanted to open his mouth to deny it—to claim Draco was joking before the kids blew the whole thing open—</p><p>Lily grinned, her face splitting with happiness, and she jumped up and gave Harry a big hug from behind, wrapping her arms around him. Harry reached a hand up to squeeze her arm, his heart filling with confused warmth because, somehow, all she wanted was for him to be happy.</p><p>The others sounded a cacophony of congratulations—James Summoned a bottle of champagne and popped it.</p><p>"I'm not wearing a cummerbund again," Albus declared, turning to Harry with fierce eyes. "And I'm not doing anything with garter belts."</p><p>"We are, if it's escaped your notice, both men," Draco answered, raising one eyebrow. "Garter belts aren't traditional."</p><p>"I know, but you know how people are about weddings," Albus said, looking for all the world like a world-weary divorcee, as if he hadn't been over the moon about his own wedding just a few years ago. "No photo booths. No matching, Charmed hair."</p><p>"Who's the Best Man?" Lily, ever the shit-stirrer, asked.</p><p>"Best Man is small potatoes. Can I officiate?" James asked, then took a deep drink from the champagne he'd poured everyone. "Well?"</p><p>Harry should've known his kids would take the news of a wedding in stride. They'd been a part of so many weddings. Ginny's, Andromeda's, Victoire's, Louis's, George's, Molly and Arthur's 50th anniversary renewal, Albus and Scorpius's, Rose's fuck-the-patriarchy non-marriage commitment ceremony ("just because I don't want to be called a 'wife' doesn't mean I don't want cake"), George's second marriage, Ron and Hermione's re-marriage after their year of separation—</p><p>His children treated weddings like an everyday occurrence.</p><p>Harry looked at Draco. They hadn't discussed this type of specifics. </p><p>Draco inclined his head. "Whatever you like. James can officiate, Scorpius and Albus can stand with me, and Lily and Teddy can stand with Harry."</p><p>Nico's face fell like a sad Crup.</p><p>James jumped out of his seat and high-fived Teddy. "Oh, brilliant. You're never going to get over how incredible I will be. I will be the new standard for all Weasley weddings."</p><p>Harry heard Draco mumble, "This isn't a Weasley wedding."</p><p>Lily launched into a discussion of something she was calling "genderfuck black tie" wedding outfits that she and Teddy could wear, and Harry let it all wash over him, trying not to get too invested in these little details of their sham relationship. He smiled, because he loved watching his kids excited like this, but he couldn't help but wonder what they'd say if they knew the truth.</p><p>
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</p><p>"Do you feel like an asshole for lying to them?" Harry asked once the kids had all disappeared through the Floo, leaving behind a loud silence and a truly astonishing number of dirty dishes.</p><p>"No," Draco said simply. "I'm not a Gryffindor."</p><p>Harry rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean, Draco."</p><p>Draco shrugged—an incongruous motion on his usually graceful body. "I don't feel guilty. I barely feel like we <i>are </i>lying. We've made a decision to live together and to be married for a period of time. What difference do our motives make to them?"</p><p>Harry stared at him for a moment. "Is this how Slytherins lie so well? By lying so hard they convince themselves, too?"</p><p>Draco flopped onto the sofa. "What even is a 'relationship'?" he asked, raising his hands to trace air quotes.</p><p>"What is this, a philosophy seminar?" Harry sat heavily in one of the armchairs. "You fucking know what a relationship is."</p><p>"It's an agreement," Draco said, letting his head fall back and closing his eyes. "A contract. A decision to be together, to help each other, to be partners."</p><p>Part of Harry wanted to throw something at Draco's head, because he was truly delusional. A <i>contract</i>?! But the other part of Harry clenched with sadness—was that what Draco's marriage had been like? For all Harry and Ginny had fought, it had never been a <i>contract</i>. It had been love.</p><p>"That is such bullshit," Harry said.</p><p>Draco cracked his eyes open. "I suppose you'll tell me it's not a relationship, if there's not love. That sounds very on-brand for you. But then I have a follow-up: what's 'love'? No, really—try to define it. If we have combined our households, spend time together, jointly engage in family activities, work together on important issues, eat together, et cetera, what about that isn't <i>real</i>? Just because we never went through a phase of infatuation and tearing off each other's clothes? Give me a break. We're adults. We've both been married and divorced. We both understand that infatuation wears off and what's left—what's at the core of a relationship—is simply being there, day after day." He paused for a moment, then added, "So there's no reason to think you're lying to your children."</p><p>Harry took a moment to process Draco's rant. After a long stretch of silence, he raised an eyebrow, and in a cheeky voice asked, "Are you telling me you're in love with me?"</p><p>"Oh for the love of…" Draco sighed. "You're impossible. My point is merely that the intentions that got us here don't change the fact that this is our family now."</p><p>Harry's heart clenched, and he couldn't tell if it was in shame or in some kind of indescribable worry. "You're quite the romantic, aren't you?"</p><p>Draco answered only with a level stare.</p><p>Draco was right, on some level—Harry knew that. This <i>was</i> their family now. But something about that realisation hurt as much as it helped, like a finger burning after too long in ice water, cold and hot merging into one sensation. Family was always the thing that Harry wanted most, and he'd never yet gotten it in quite the way he wanted most. </p><p>Except his children, of course. His children were the perfect exception to the lack of choice that had always defined the rest of Harry's life.</p><p>"Family," Harry said, unsure whether his voice sounded like he was agreeing or if it sounded wistful. "Right."</p><p>Draco caught his eye, and Harry could see all the ways that Draco understood. Draco's difficult, harmful family. The way his family put him in harm's way during the war. The way his parents constrained his options after. The way Lucius sometimes made Scorpius cry. The way Draco had to constantly atone for his parents' sins, getting nothing in return but lectures about tradition and a vague, aristocratic-distant regard. </p><p>Harry was hit with a wave of wanting to provide comfort—a feeling he often experienced since becoming a father. But that feeling had never been directed towards Draco before. Somehow he wanted to cross the space between them and give Draco a hug, to tell him he understood, that they'd both put up with so much shit. To say that this messy family they had now would be better.</p><p>But that wasn't appropriate, was it? Harry stood, said goodnight, and went to bed.</p><p>
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</p><p>"No." Harry glanced past the dress robes hanging in the corner under a Levitation Charm. "<i>No</i>, Draco."</p><p>Draco, unimpressed, stood in the doorway of Harry's room. "It will prove to the centre that we are reasonable and open to dialogue. We need those votes!"</p><p>"The <i>centre</i>," Harry hissed, "needs to sort their priorities."</p><p>"It's to revitalise the economy." Draco leaned against the door, crossing one leg over the other. "To support small business."</p><p>"It's capitalist nonsense, is what it is," Harry retorted with the fiery resistance of one certain he's right. "That bill practically makes it legal for businesses to nurture mini-Voldemorts! <i>Rump </i>supports it, Draco!"</p><p>"Oh, please. The bill merely says that a business owner can't be held responsible if an employee engages in Dark Arts without their knowledge."</p><p>Harry stared at him for a moment. "Why would we want to do that? Shouldn't we <i>want </i>business owners to be responsible for what goes on in their shops?" Harry threw an arm in the air. "It makes no fucking sense."</p><p>"Business owners are worried about the prospect of losing money," Draco explained, as if Harry didn't know that businesses wanted to make money.</p><p>"As far as I can see, the only person this would help is Borgin, back in whatever-the-fuck-year Tom Riddle worked there after Hogwarts. The current law only says that business owners can be held legally and financially responsible for illegal activity on their premises. It's common fucking sense. Business owners <i>should </i>have an incentive to make sure no one's becoming the next Dark Lord on their sickle."</p><p>"But it makes employers scared to hire!" Draco was getting all worked up now, a red flush creeping up his neck. "They feel like they can't trust anyone to work in their business. It deflates the size of wizarding businesses."</p><p>"If that's true, good! Do you want a wizarding version of Google or Amazon or Facebook? Because, fucking hell, that sounds like an actual dystopia."</p><p>"But the disinclination to hire has…unequal effects."</p><p>Harry's ears perked up. Being friends with Hermione, discrimination in hiring was a topic about which he knew a lot. More, frankly, than he ever cared to. But he didn't think anything about the law as currently written could hurt oppressed groups in the hiring process. "Huh? How?"</p><p>Draco leveled him with a raised eyebrow. "Who do you think is less likely to be hired if an employee's Dark Arts can put the company on the line?"</p><p>Harry groaned so loudly he heard one of their owls squawk from the nook downstairs. "Please—<i>please </i>tell me you aren't about to tell me a sob story about how hard life is for former Death Eaters or Slytherins or whatever. Because I will—" Harry grasped wildly for his best point of leverage; his eyes landed on his wedding robes. "I will stand you up at the altar."</p><p>Draco rolled his eyes and sighed. "I'm not—I—argh!" He walked over to Harry's bed and flopped dramatically onto it, looking up at the ceiling. "I don't like the idea of there being a financial incentive for businesses to refuse to hire Slytherins or kids of Death Eaters. You know I don't give a shit about the actual Death Eaters. If they haven't done the fucking work to redeem themselves, fuck them and the broom they rode in on."</p><p>Harry nodded in agreement. "Fuck them <i>with </i>the broom they rode in on."</p><p>"Not the point, Harry," he drawled, and tossed an arm over his eyes. "And incidentally, threats of sexual violence aren't the done thing anymore."</p><p>"It's not a threat of sexual violence!" Harry said, almost choking in his attempt to defend himself. Draco let his head fall towards him with a supremely unimpressed look. Harry sighed. "Yeah, okay, fine, it is. Sorry."</p><p>Draco waved his hand. "The <i>point—"</i></p><p>"You're worried about baby Slytherins." Harry leaned back, bracing himself on one arm. "You do realise that it's already illegal to discriminate in hiring based on a school affiliation, including House affiliation. It's also illegal to discriminate in hiring based on family affiliation of any kind. If a Slytherin or child of a Death Eater were to be discriminated against, you could do pro bono work to help file a complaint, and you know you'd win. So it's not really an issue."</p><p>"Sometimes…I get a little outraged on behalf of Scorpius," Draco murmured from beneath his arm.</p><p>Harry snorted. "A <i>little</i>? I watched you buy out a tabloid because it printed something mean about Scorpius, and then proceed to fire every employee and burn the office to the ground. Literally."</p><p>"It wasn't <i>technically</i> arson because I very carefully protected all surrounding property. I only burned that which I owned, and I wasn't seeking recompense." Peeking out below the arm that still covered his eyes, Draco's lips curved up. "Besides, they deserved that."</p><p>"Yeah, they did." Harry didn't tell Draco it had been one of the first times he had felt kinship with Draco, watching him get angry about his son's treatment in the media. It was a fight Harry had waged constantly since his kids were born. Nothing made him upset faster than the media printing shit about his kids. "But Scorp is fine, Draco."</p><p>"He is, isn't he?" Draco laughed sadly. "Somehow that never makes me worry less."</p><p>"What's really bothering you?"</p><p>Draco removed his arm and glared at Harry. "What <i>isn't</i> bothering me? The world is going up in flames, and not the good kind of flames that once reduced an unethical rag to ash." </p><p>Harry opened his mouth to reply, but Draco cut him off.</p><p>"And don't patronise me. I want to support the bill. I <i>do </i>want to protect small businesses. This isn't about Scorpius. It wouldn't take much for you to support the bill, Harry—all I'm asking you to do is—"</p><p>"No! Honestly, if there's a business owner who doesn't know how to make sure their employees aren't using their space and resources to perform Dark Magic, I will personally teach them some detection charms."</p><p>"Auror Potter to the rescue." Draco's sarcastic tone was sour enough to etch metal.</p><p>"Oh give me a break," Harry said. "I suspect you love it."</p><p>"I do not."</p><p>"I'm not supporting that bill."</p><p>"Fine." Draco sat up, resigned. "Oh, by the way, my mother Flooed. She is concerned that a non-magically-bound wedding ceremony performed by your son won't be recognised by the Malfoy Estate's entail."</p><p>Harry laughed. "Wow, that's a terrifying thought. Well, James is doing it. It's the only part of this charade I'm looking forward to."</p><p>"I know. I told her we would do a traditional marriage vow in private, at some other time. Alright?"</p><p>Harry turned to Draco in surprise. "A vow? Really?"</p><p>"Not a bond, just a vow." Draco searched Harry's face for something. "I mean, if you agree."</p><p>"You know that I don't care if I get the Malfoy family…money, or whatever. In fact, I'd kind of rather <i>not.</i>"</p><p>"Harry, trust me. I tried to turn down a vault when I turned 21. I told my parents that their prestige and money had ruined my life and I wanted nothing to do with their blood Galleons. It was a nightmare. A goblin followed me around for a month, and the vault key kept appearing, no matter how many times I returned it to Gringotts. One time it landed in my tea. Another time it whacked me in the head while I was in the middle of getting off with some bloke from the London School of Economics."</p><p>Harry stared, unsure whether this was an elaborate tall tale.</p><p>"Take my word for it—where the entail is concerned, it's better to go along with it. If you ever come into possession of a bunch of their money, you can always donate it."</p><p>"Are you sure the gold won't refuse to be donated to a leftist cause?" Harry quipped. "The Galleons won't run back home on little metal legs, appearing back at the Manor like the vault key you tried to refuse?"</p><p>"Very funny," Draco said. "And no, I donated that entire vault to Hogwarts once I realised the key wouldn't take no for an answer."</p><p>"You donated it…to Hogwarts?" Harry tried to integrate that with what he knew about Draco, another tiny clue making the full picture a bit clearer.</p><p>Draco hummed. "You aren't the only one who loved that school, you know."</p><p>Harry's mind unhelpfully supplied an image of Draco the way he'd looked—scared, cornered—on the Astronomy Tower the night of Dumbledore's death. The way he'd looked about to vomit when the Death Eaters, at his invitation, ran into the school. That whole night had haunted Harry's dreams for years. The terror of it had diminished only somewhat with infinite mental replaying.</p><p>"Can I ask you something?"</p><p>Draco nodded.</p><p>"The night Dumbledore died—what did you think was going to happen, with the Vanishing Cabinet? It was clear you didn't think a whole mess of Death Eaters would come through and start shooting curses in the corridors. But—"</p><p>"Forgive me, but I really don't want to talk about that. Unless—" Draco's eyes narrowed. "Unless you're still threatening to jilt me at the altar, if I don't do what you say…?"</p><p>Harry laughed. "No, it's fine—I'm sorry I asked."</p><p>"You can ask me whatever you like." Draco stood and walked to Harry's bedroom door, reaching out to grab the moulding. He looked over his shoulder, said, "But I may choose not to answer," winked, and left.</p><p>Harry stared at the empty door.</p><p>
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</p><p>Harry was moderately drunk, and it was Lily's fault. She was wearing antlers ("If you're a Potter <i>and </i>you'reat a stag do, it's required attire, Daddy, come on").</p><p>Harry and Draco had pointed out—many times, and to no avail—that a get-together with one's spouse-to-be and all your combined children in your own house (even if that had been decorated for a party with speakers and some kind of disco strobe) did not count as a "stag do.". The kids had asked who they wanted to invite, but since Harry felt like he was going to be in Dad Mode at this party, the thought of inviting the entire Gryffindor contingent did not seem fun. So he'd said "just Ron and Hermione," and Draco'd said, "just Pansy and Daphne," and that was that. Here they were.</p><p>Harry had been keeping his eye on James, Albus, and Teddy, ready for them to embarrass him in some as-yet-unknown way. That was his own fault—he'd always had a soft spot for Lily. He should've realised it would be her, and that she had to do nothing more than distract him slightly while she refilled his drink. </p><p>It was a minor consolation that Draco was drunk too. Harry was pretty sure he wouldn't have gotten drunk on purpose, either, and he wondered if someone was to blame. No matter.</p><p>"Hermione," Harry whispered, leaning into her shoulder. "Lily got me drunk. Make sure I don't do drunk things."</p><p>She snorted. "Harry, I love you. But parties like this are miserable for sober people. I will stay and keep an eye on you for as long as I can put up with drunken, inane tomfoolery."</p><p>"Ron, your wife is being mean," Harry whined.</p><p>"Don't look at me, mate," Ron said, laughing. "And don't call her my 'wife', unless you want to get smacked. And it's not our fault you're drunk."</p><p>"No!" Harry said, punctuating the point with his finger. "It's Lily's fault! I've sired a monster!"</p><p>"I'm leaving if you use the word 'sired' again," Hermione said, grinning, sipping her mineral water.</p><p>A resonant dinging noise traveled through the room and Harry looked up to see Scorpius delightedly tapping a glass with a spoon. "Attention!" he called, and the small group quieted (with the exception of Teddy, who seemed to be in the middle of a hippogriff limerick). Albus joined, throwing his arm around Scorpius's shoulders.</p><p>"Since this is an unconventional stag do for an unconventional family," Scorpius announced, radiating happiness, "many conventional activities are…precluded." </p><p>"So we've prepared a very special game," Albus finished, and he was smiling <i>much </i>too widely for Harry's good. </p><p>"Oh, sweet Merlin," Harry hissed, and Ron, the traitor, devolved into giggles.</p><p>"So we'd like to invite our guests of honour to centre stage!" Scorpius waved his wand, conjuring two identical thrones.</p><p>Harry caught Draco's eye from across the room. At least they <i>both </i>seemed to be scared shitless and drunk as fuck, judging by the mottled red blotches all over Draco's face and the wide saucers his grey eyes had become.</p><p>Lily grabbed Harry's hand and tugged him out of his seat, the world lurched, and he found himself landing much too roughly on one of Scorpius's thrones. Draco, pushed by Pansy, tumbled next to him a moment later.</p><p>"I am so drunk," Draco whispered, leaning into Harry's space. "I am going to kill Pansy. Don't let me say anything ill advised."</p><p>Harry started laughing—the nervous, unstoppable laugh of the drunk and hopeless. "Sorry. Er, we're so fucked."</p><p>"This is the shoe game," Albus announced. "Babe, fix the chairs?"</p><p>Scorpius waved his wand and the two thrones moved, separating Harry and Draco and pushing them back to back. Harry craned his neck to look behind him, seeing only the back of Draco's head. </p><p>
  <i>Fuck. </i>
</p><p>"Dads, take off your shoes."</p><p>"I strongly object," Draco drawled, slurring almost imperceptibly.</p><p>"Overruled," Scorpius said cheerfully. "Shoes, Dad."</p><p>Harry had no idea what was going on, but he pressed the toe of his right foot into the back of his left and slipped his foot out of his trainers, hoping against hope that his socks didn't have any holes. He leaned over and grabbed the shoes, wondering what he was supposed to do now. What if his evil children made him try to walk on nails or something?! </p><p>"Now trade, so you each have one of each." Albus still sounded way too happy.</p><p>Harry turned toward Draco, holding his dirty trainer out somewhat apologetically. </p><p>"I strongly object." Draco took the shoe, holding it somewhat gingerly, and handed Harry his own shoe, a handsome brown brogue. In his drunk state, Harry was tempted to put Draco's shoe on and affect a little play-acted Draco impersonation. </p><p>Harry put the mismatched shoes on his lap and thought with some amusement that Draco probably wasn't allowing dirty soles anywhere near his trousers.</p><p>"Here's how it works," Scorpius said. "I ask a question that starts with 'who…', and to answer, you raise that person's shoe."</p><p>"Then what?" Harry asked. "How do you win?"</p><p>"There's no winner, Dad—it's just for fun."</p><p>No winner. Preposterous. If he and Draco were going to play a game….for fuck's sake.</p><p>His family cheered. </p><p>"Who has the better shower singing voice?"</p><p>Harry considered this. Draco's speaking voice was lovely, but he could not carry a tune. Harry however, had always enjoyed a good belt, preferably of When Doves Cry. He raised his own shoe.</p><p>"It's not polite to make fun of a lack of musical ability," Draco insisted from somewhere behind him. "Madame Toussaint did try."</p><p>"Who would be more likely to want another baby?"</p><p>Harry turned towards Albus and Scorpius in horror. "We are fifty-six years old!"</p><p>Albus shrugged, unconcerned. "It's just a question, Dad."</p><p>Harry stared at the shoes. He was fairly certain neither of them would <i>ever. </i>"Can I answer a firm 'neither'?" But halfway through his question, the crowd erupted into laughter—Draco must have put a shoe up. Harry spun around. "Wha—?!"</p><p>Albus caught his shoulder and turned him back. "Answer the question." </p><p>Harry sighed, feeling wronged. Well. He had three kids of his own plus Teddy. He was going to have to go with Draco. He lifted the shoe up.</p><p>The crowd laughed again and Harry contemplated the material of Draco's shoe—what on earth was the sole made of? Was that leather? He'd never felt anything like it.</p><p>"Who's a night owl?"</p><p>Harry thought of all the times Draco yawned and excused himself from the sitting room, wandering upstairs, and raised his shoe again.</p><p>"This is too easy," Draco said. "Everyone knows Harry stays up all night long on the Twitter."</p><p>Nico was laughing so hard he looked like he might fall off his chair.</p><p>"Who would rather be outdoors?"</p><p>Harry raised his trainer.</p><p>"Who is a better flyer?"</p><p>Harry hooted, raising his trainer again, and the crowd erupted into laughter. </p><p>Ron was laughing so hard he had doubled over, clutching at his stomach. "Of course you both still think you're better."</p><p>"Who takes up more than half of the bed?"</p><p>For a split second, Harry panicked. Everyone was going to realise that they had no idea. Then Harry's drunken brain told him that it didn't matter anyway, because they were drunk, and if they disagreed, everyone would just laugh. Harry raised Draco's shoe.</p><p>"I do not!" Draco insisted, responding to the crowd's hoots. "How dare you."</p><p>Harry couldn't help it—he laughed, a free, happy, warm-with-family laugh. It was all going to be alright, wasn't it?</p><p>"Who fell in love first?"</p><p>Harry's smile vanished. Shit. Er—he looked at the shoes. Well, Draco had thought up this cockamamie scheme. He guessed that counted. </p><p>But the crowd didn't laugh when Harry raised Draco's shoe. They quieted. Someone made an "awwww" sound. "Dad!" Scorpius said, all full of emotion, and Harry, head still swimming with booze, felt like he had no idea what was going on.</p><p>"Who eats the most junk food?"</p><p>Harry raised Draco's shoe without thinking. "Posh junk food is still junk food." Laughter rang in Harry's ears.</p><p>"Who made the first move?"</p><p>There had been <i>no </i>moves. Harry thought back. Well, he had kissed Draco first, that day, if you could even call it a kiss. He raised his shoe, and everyone burst into wolf whistles and cheering. Harry flushed, his skin suddenly hot with embarrassment—they all thought he just owned up to much more than a peck on the lips, didn't they?</p><p>"Who is more likely to throw their clothes on the floor?"</p><p>Harry raised his shoe, thinking that a clear mark in his column, but Scorpius hollered, "Oh come on, Dad, it <i>has </i>to be you!"</p><p>Harry laughed—Draco was messy with his clothes?! How could that be? </p><p>"Lorraine's labour does not change the fact of your behavior!" Scorpius insisted, and Pansy's voice shouted something out.</p><p>"What can I say?" Harry said. "We're both slobs." Laughter.</p><p>"Who proposed?"</p><p>Harry raised his shoe. It was…true enough. He'd brought it up. Although it had been Draco's idea, hadn't it? He lifted Draco's, too, and everyone in the room started laughing. </p><p>"You two are insufferable!" James shouted joyfully. "That was like watching one person reflected in a mirror!"</p><p>"Who's more likely to cry during a film?"</p><p>Harry never cried during films. Well, except Up!, and everyone cried during Up. He raised Draco's shoe, no idea if it was true. People were laughing, but he couldn't tell why. He hated not knowing what was going on.</p><p>"Who will make the first move now?"</p><p>Huh? Harry turned towards Albus, not understanding the question, and repeated the words in his brain. Now? <i>Oh. Now. No</i>, he couldn't let Draco win—</p><p>He heard the scraping of Draco's chair against the floor and leaped out of his own seat, shoes falling to the floor, and spun around to find himself chest-to-chest with Draco. Harry's face was hot from being put on the spot with all these questions about their love life, and Draco's hair was all mussed up and his ears were red. For a moment, they stared at each other.</p><p>"Who will make—" Albus began to repeat the question.</p><p>Harry met Draco's eyes, trying to ask a question or find an answer there, and a moment later Harry's fingers were clutching at Draco's hips, and Draco's fingers were in his hair, the sound of nothing but blood rushing in his ears, and they were kissing—not like the previous times when it was pecks or smacks for show, but actually, <i>really</i> kissing, because they were drunk and it was a stag do and their children were conniving foxes, and what choice did they really have? But fuck it was hot in this room, and Draco tugged him closer, their chests and hips bumping together, and all Harry could think was <i>what the fuck is happening and why is it so good?</i> It was like play-acting his ideal life while knowing it was fake, but Harry couldn't quite find it in him to care because he and Draco were getting married and their families and friends were <i>happy </i>about it, and the country was on their side and headlines about Harry and Draco often bumped Rump below the fold. And really, Draco was a good kisser, too—he was all passion and precision, like he was with everything else in his life, and Harry didn't know how long it had been since he'd had a tongue in his mouth—had it always felt this good? He couldn't really remember. Maybe they should stop kissing. Because he was pretty sure their children were watching, and that was why this entire stag do was meant to be G-rated and safe, not R-rated and featuring rapidly-swelling erections. </p><p>A tingling jet of cold air blasted into Harry's skin and he found himself skidding backward, away from Draco, as if he'd been yanked away. He blinked, trying to get a sense of his surroundings, and saw Hermione standing with her wand out, giving him an inscrutable look. </p><p>"That's quite enough of that," Hermione said, laughing, and ran over to wrap Harry in a hug. "Sober friend to the rescue," she whispered in Harry's ear. "Didn't think you'd want to start dry-humping him in front of your kids." </p><p>Harry laughed but it came out as a hiccough. "Thank you," he whispered into her hair. Over Hermione's shoulder, Harry saw Draco staring. His cheeks were red and he didn't seem to be able to look away.</p><p>Lily shouted, "Now we dance!" and the speakers blared, "<i>Everybody dance now!"</i></p><p>"Aaaaand, I'm going home." Hermione released Harry from the hug. "Unless you need me."</p><p>"He's fine, Aunt Hermione!" Lily said, grabbing Harry's hand and placing it in Draco's. "We're all fine!"</p><p>Hermione left, and the loud music made Harry's sloshy brain feel yet more sloshy. He let himself slump against Draco, who was holding his hand, and Draco positioned them into a much-too-formal dancing position as the children jumped around them like possessed chimpanzees. </p><p>"We just snogged in front of our kids," Harry said, as if it was the funniest thing that had ever happened. They still weren't wearing shoes. </p><p>"Indeed." Draco shook his head, a faint smile on his lips. "Sometimes I can't believe this is my life."</p><p>"I can't believe this is your life either; you're dancing all wrong. You need to just like, rock out. This isn't a waltz."</p><p>Harry attempted to get Draco to stop ballroom dancing, and they ended up in some kind of hybrid where their hands stayed in Draco's clamped position but their feet followed Harry's jig. "This is not working!" Harry shouted. "We look like we've been Tarantallegraed!"</p><p>"Why did we let them get us drunk?!" Draco shouted back.</p><p>"Because we forgot that our children are <i>evil</i>." Harry tried to flick his wrist to nudge Draco into a ridiculous spin, but Draco misread the cue and tried to switch to a different hand position.</p><p>"You're a good kisser!" Draco shouted, his face open and unguarded.</p><p>Harry blinked. "Thank you? You too!"</p><p>Draco nodded, like this was obvious.</p><p>"MORE WHISKEY!" James shouted, swirling around them and pressing drinks into their hands.</p><p>Harry looked around, as if Hermione were going to appear, sober, to save him, but he could only see bad influences, and the harm was done now, anyway, wasn't it? They drank the whiskey.</p><p>There was dancing, and shouting, and screaming along to a Weird Sisters super-medley, and Teddy and James performing Bohemian Rhapsody, and Ron shouting every single lyric to Mr. Brightside. Harry never let go of Draco, because he needed the anchor of another person who understood the truth of what was happening here. As if Harry himself had a grasp on the truth of what was happening here.</p><p>When the music blared, they danced. When people clinked spoons on glasses, they kissed. When people shouted "awwwww," they smiled. </p><p>There was Ron saying to Albus, "You lot need to realise that we're old. We will pay for this tomorrow. We can't let you keep giving us more whiskey!" He was speaking <i>so loudly</i>. "No! It's not going to work, James! I am your uncle, and I say it's time to bring your poor father to bed." James wolf-whistled, which was disturbing because Harry was his <i>father </i>and did James have no shame? But then Ron caught Harry's eye and made this grimace that seemed to reflect a sentiment of <i>as if you'll be getting it up after that much alcohol, yeah right, mate, sorry. </i>"Who is going to stay with them?" Ron hollered. "We can't get them this drunk and then leave them like that!"</p><p>Harry looked around, trying to take in the sights. Albus and Scorpius were dancing off to the side, laughing and touching each other in a way that somehow still made Harry feel like it was his job to go over there and play chaperone, even though they were twenty-nine—thirty?—and married. Teddy and James had brought out Twister, which had been a favourite pastime of theirs since they were children. Lily was talking with Pansy and Daphne, which seemed like a power trio the world was not ready for.</p><p>The music changed to Spice Girls, and everything was shouting lyrics and dancing again.</p><p>At some point, things dying down, a hand on Harry's elbow. "Come on, upstairs, Harry!" Teddy's voice.</p><p>There was laughing on the stairs, Draco gasping air through peals of laughter, and Teddy threatening to Levitate them if they didn't keep walking, and falling onto Draco's bed, which smelled like Draco, still laughing, and Teddy mumbling as he spelled off their clothes, leaving them in underwear, and shooting dental charms at their mouths that left a lingering taste of spearmint. Harry smacked his tongue; he always preferred peppermint. </p><p>"Teddy," Draco said. "Teddy," but then dissolved into laughter. "Why did you make us so drunk? Why aren't you so drunk?"</p><p>"I <i>am</i> drunk," Teddy replied. "Just not as shitfaced as you two. And don't blame me. That was all your children's doing. I'm going to cast some charms to hydrate and so you won't puke, okay?"</p><p>A nauseating series of spells left a disturbed calm in their wake. "Ew," Harry moaned. "Get out of here, Ted. It's not cool for you to see us like this. I'm aspposed to be your parent figure. I changed your nappies."</p><p>"Harry, go to sleep," Teddy said. "I love you."</p><p>"I love you, Tedd-o."</p><p>"We're all happy for you two. Just do us a favour, and if you're going to engage in premarital activities, wait at least ten minutes so we can clear out."</p><p>Draco snorted, and it almost could've been a snore.</p><p>"I put Hangover Potion on the table."</p><p>Darkness.</p><p>When they woke, it was to noon-bright sun and Lorraine holding the Hangover Potions. Harry took the potion and, no idea how to act in Draco's bed after all that, smiled embarrassedly and fled.</p><p>
  <span class="font-white">...</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span class="font-white">...</span>
</p><p>A week later, Harry dreamt he was at the seaside: at Shell Cottage, where he'd spent many holidays with Ginny and the kids when Bill and Fleur were in France. It smelled like ocean water and sounded rhythmic, the way all places near the sea sounded—even if you couldn't hear the waves clearly, the rhythm of it was there.</p><p>He dreamt he was awoken by a familiar grey-blond head kissing his neck. He dreamt he liked it. He dreamt he smiled, closing his eyes, and threaded his fingers through Draco's hair. He dreamt Draco climbed on top of him, he dreamt he loved the weight of another body on his. He dreamt a bone-deep relaxation with a joking partner atop him, not sex but laughter. Harry dreamt Draco teasing him for being a "glorified cop," he dreamt of pride at their political accomplishments and a world that wasn't burning. He dreamt a baby gurgling in the hallway and the sound of Scorpius and Albus half-asleep, walking into walls on the way to the baby. He dreamt he thought Draco was sexy as fuck. He dreamt he asked Draco if he wanted to snorkel. He dreamt Draco said yes. He dreamt Draco in a pair of swim trunks, fucking up a Bubble-Head Charm and trying to get the bubble off his ear.</p><p>Harry woke, gasping. What—</p><p>What the fuck.</p><p>He sat up. He was in his own bed. The wedding was tomorrow.</p><p>He exhaled, reached for his wand and filled a glass with water. When he'd drunk it, he buried his head in his hands. </p><p>It was just the wedding, right? People had bizarre ideas before they took big steps like marriage. Of course he was dreaming of a life with Draco, because he was committing to a life with Draco.</p><p>It was just that—it felt like this wasn't part of the deal. It felt like it wasn't fair to Draco, somehow. Harry had agreed to get married for political reasons. Everything they were doing was to that end. Neither he nor Draco had signed on for dreams about laughing in bed, a lover slowly undulating on top of them—</p><p><i>Undulating</i>? Really, Harry? <i>What</i> was going on in his head? Harry groaned, almost hoping someone would hear and come rescue him, that someone would come ask what was wrong. Not that he had much of a track record with being saved.</p><p>Maybe the problem wasn't the wedding at all. Maybe the problem was that he and Draco had never really discussed their <i>behaviour</i> at the stag do. The kissing and the groping and the dancing. Maybe this dream was Harry's brain's way of telling him to get it together and talk it out.</p><p>Harry hopped out of bed. "Draco!" he called.</p><p>Lorraine appeared a few feet in front of him. "Master Draco is eating breakfast in the garden. Would Master Harry care to join?"</p><p>"Oh. Yes, Lorraine, thanks."</p><p>Harry jogged down the stairs, through the sitting room, and onto the back patio. It was a gorgeous garden. Fairly small, given they were in the middle of London, but Harry suspected that it benefited from an Undetectable Extension. The walls surrounding the garden were covered with a thick layer of hedges and vines, and Draco sat at a table reading the <i>Daily Prophet</i>. </p><p>He looked up when he heard the door and smiled. "Good morning."</p><p>Harry dropped heavily into the seat next to Draco. "If we're getting married, I need to be honest with you about something."</p><p>Draco's eyes lit up. He set down the paper. "Oooh, is this where I finally learn about all the skeletons in your closet? All the misdeeds and fame-seeking?"</p><p>"No, don't be a prat. I—" Harry had no idea what to say. He had come here with the intention of being honest, but right now he wasn't sure what that even was. "Er."</p><p>"Spit it out, Potter."</p><p>"When you asked me if I would marry you to save the world," Harry started, wincing, "it was assumed that I was not harboring any sexual feelings about you. But I wanted to tell you that, er, in light of recent events. Well. I enjoyed kissing you."</p><p>Draco blinked. "You…enjoyed kissing me."</p><p>"Yes. And I don't want to get married under false pretenses, as if I hadn't enjoyed it. That seems dishonest, unethical, something. I don't know. So, there you have it: I liked it."</p><p>"You are," Draco said, reaching to pinch his nose, "without a doubt, one of the most infuriating people I've ever met." He sighed and returned his gaze to meet Harry's eyes. "Thank you, I suppose. I enjoyed kissing you, too. Was there anything else?"</p><p>Harry leaned forward, resting on his elbows. "So I'm not freaking you out? I was worried it would upset you."</p><p>"Harry, if we kissed the way we did and you <i>didn't </i>like it, I think I might be offended."</p><p>Harry stared for a moment too long. "Ah, right. Because, that's what bodies do. Kissing, arousal, what not. It's…biology."</p><p>"Yes. Biology. Except you should qualify your language to account for asexuals. Ace erasure isn't done anymore." Draco's cheeks were red. "But, yes, in our case, biology. Nothing to get worked up over."</p><p>"Right."</p><p>For a period of time that seemed to last an hour, but was probably more on the order of 90 seconds, Harry looked up at the sky and tried not to feel like the world's biggest disaster.</p><p>"Have you seen today's paper?" Draco asked, pushing it towards him. "Rump is admonishing people for using spells on the Taboo list. I give him another week before he cracks and stops the Taboo altogether. Bless Albus and Scorpius's resistance. Has it been a real headache for the DMLE?"</p><p>Harry scanned the paper. Tomorrow, in front of their children, families, and close friends, they'd be married. Today, he would find solace in chatter about Rump's assholery. "Not a big deal. I told them to forward every notice to Rump's office and otherwise ignore them. How long until I get sacked?"</p><p>Draco tipped his head back and laughed.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Comments and questions are read and loved here and on <a href="https://aibidil.tumblr.com">Tumblr</a>!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Autumn 2036</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Friends, I can't believe this update took me so long—but since I last posted, I finished the book manuscript I was writing! Thanks for sticking around. I laughed a lot writing this. Hope you're all healthy and fighting fascism. 😊✊🏻</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Do you think it would be preferable to privately fund the Triple M workers’ salaries?” Draco, wearing a silky-looking black dressing gown with a floral print, was buttering toast. “Or should we start an organisation to do it? I hate the idea of starting an organisation. But according to my contact at the ICW, the Triple M workers are off the payroll starting next week.”</p><p>Harry swallowed his coffee. “Too much paperwork.”</p><p>“Well, yes, but also—it would seem like we’re giving tacit approval to the idea that this can be solved privately rather than through the government, which is firmly <i>not </i>what I support. We think the MoM <i>should</i> pay for the Triple M with public Galleons.”</p><p>Harry sighed. He hated these sorts of decisions. “Is it possible to just secretly bankroll their salaries? Or is that, you know, illegal?”</p><p>“We’ll have to get official financial advice. Can we contact your Gringotts Weasley?”</p><p>“Sure, I—”</p><p>A loud <i>crack</i> and thumping bangs sounded from the vestibule, and Harry and Draco both grabbed their wands and whirled towards the noise.</p><p>“The fuck is that?” Harry asked as they strode toward the intrusion.</p><p>“Dad!”</p><p>It was James. James, in their foyer at half seven. James, in the foyer at half seven, surrounded by what appeared to be all his worldly possessions. Trunks, bags, cardboard boxes held together with a combination of tape, magic, and hope.</p><p>“Jamie?” Harry walked forward to wrap his son in a hug. </p><p>“I wasn’t interrupting anything, was I?” James asked, nodding towards their state of undress. Harry was still in his joggers and an old Puddlemere t-shirt, Draco in his dressing gown.</p><p>“Of course not,” Draco said, though he sounded a bit off-kilter. “One’s children are always welcome in their home.”</p><p>“What’s up?” Harry searched James’s face, wondering what could have brought him here so early and with all his stuff.</p><p>“Tam kicked me out. It’s—it’s fine. It’s not a big deal.”</p><p>Harry took a deep breath, calling on all his years of parenting to give him the right words to deal with a thirty-two-year-old son who had just been dumped by a new girlfriend after having recently moved in with her after <i>one month </i>of dating.</p><p>“Come have some breakfast,” Harry said, putting a hand on James’s shoulder, “and tell us what happened.”</p><p>Lorraine took one look at James and Disapparated, returning a moment later with eggs, French toast, and hot chocolate.</p><p>After he’d chugged half a mug of cocoa, James sighed. “Last night I was joking about how much mayo she put on her sandwich.”</p><p>Harry let his eyes slide towards Draco, and once he’d made eye contact, he looked back at James. </p><p>“Well, she didn’t think it was funny. Lately she thinks nothingis funny, which is really a problem, because I think everything is funny.”</p><p>Harry frowned. “That does seem like a fundamental problem. Did you used to laugh together?”</p><p>“Yes? I’m pretty sure we did. I mean, it’s possible I was a little distracted by how fit she is. And she’s also really amazing—did you know she teaches Quidditch to little kids? And she’s getting her magical law degree. And she used to think I was funny.”</p><p>“I realise it’s not exactly my place,” Draco said, “but can we circle back to the mayo?”</p><p>“I was joking! She slathered on like half a jar of mayo! It required a joke!”</p><p>“Did she…think you were shaming her for eating?” Harry asked, treading lightly.</p><p>“She might have.” James reached for a muffin from a basket Lorraine had just added to the spread. “How could she think I want to food shame her, though?! When I first met her, we once had a marshmallow-eating contest. I am one hundred percent pro-eating.”</p><p>“Sometimes,” Harry said, “people tend to overlook things in the very beginning of a relationship. Or think the other person is funny for something that, later, they find annoying.”</p><p>James looked between Harry and Draco. “Did that happen to you two?”</p><p>Harry panicked, but luckily Draco spoke.</p><p>“Lucky for me, I’ve always found your father supremely annoying. So there was never any love-struck wool pulled over my eyes.”</p><p>“Awww,” Harry teased. “I’ve always found you annoying, too.”</p><p>James snorted. “I forgot, you two are weird as fuck. Can’t ever compare other relationships to yours.”</p><p>Harry thought maybe that wasn’t entirely true—if there were any other child enemies turned in-laws turned fake-spouses out there.</p><p>“Jamie, it does seem like maybe you’re better off. You don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t get you.”</p><p>“Yes,” Draco agreed, falling adeptly into this step-parent role. “It seems as if you might need someone who will tease <i>you </i>mercilessly, so it’s built into the very fabric of your relationship.”</p><p>“You could put it in the personal ad,” Harry quipped. “Single thirty-two-year-old wizard looking for a partner in piss-takes.”</p><p>There was a long pause in which Draco stared at him in horror. “<i>Harry.</i> Do you have any idea the people that ad would turn up? Sometimes I worry for your welfare. One of these days you’re going to write a memo and accidentally suggest to the entire Auror department that you’re looking for a golden shower.”</p><p>“Ew. Dads are not allowed to talk about that. Besides,” James added, “no one writes personal ads these days. Everyone’s on Howlr. I guess I need to increase the banter-level of my profile.”</p><p>“I’m sure your profile is plenty banterous,” Harry said, patting James’s hand.</p><p>“You guys wouldn’t understand. It’s next to impossible for me to date. I’ve been famous my whole life, and it only got worse when I was playing for Puddlemere. No one actually wants to get with <i>me</i>, you know? It’s just like, millions of people who want to get with James Potter. I might have to make a profile with a fake persona again.”</p><p>Harry chanced a look at Draco, though he worried that if he caught Draco’s eye, he might lose his composure entirely and burst into riotous laughter. Draco raised his hand and coughed to cover a smile.</p><p>“That sounds hard,” Harry managed. “Call me old-fashioned, but you might have an easier time going out places, joining clubs, and finding someone that way.”</p><p>“Clubs. What is this, 1945? Come on, Dad. Do I look like I’m going to join the Fraternal Order of Wizards? Honestly.”</p><p>“Well, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you need,” Draco offered. “There are a few bedrooms on the fifth floor you can choose from.”</p><p>Harry nodded. “And you can get to work easily from here.” James worked at St. Mungo’s doing sports rehabilitation.</p><p>“Thank you,” James said, looking genuinely grateful. “And yes—it’ll be super convenient. I can even get my morning run in by running to work! I’ll start looking for a flat soon, I promise.”</p><p>“It’s no trouble.” Draco refilled James’s cocoa. Draco, out of James’s sight, pulled his wand and waved it towards the ceiling. “Would you like to go choose a room now?”</p><p>James pushed his chair away from the table with a scrape. “Yes. That sounds good. I haven’t slept all night.”</p><p>“Our room is on the second floor,” Draco said. “You’ll know Scorpius’s room because it says <i>Scorpius</i> on the door. You may choose from the rest. Let us know, and we’ll send Lorraine up with your things.”</p><p>James grabbed another muffin and kissed Harry on the head. “Thank you both. Really. I’m going to sleep for like ten hours.” He turned and jogged up the stairs.</p><p>Harry leaned forward. “What about my room?!”</p><p>Draco leaned close until their heads were almost touching. “I sent some magic up to disguise it. He won’t notice your room. Lorraine!”</p><p><i>Crack! </i>“Yes, Master Draco?”</p><p>Draco reached an arm out and brought Lorraine and Harry into an impromptu huddle. “I need you to move all of Harry’s things from his room into my room. And his bathroom, too. James will be staying with us for a while, and we need him to think we were always staying in the same bedroom.”</p><p>Lorraine’s eyes grew even wider, and she looked between the two of them seriously. She snapped her fingers, enacting elves-only-knew what magic upstairs. “Consider it being done! Master Harry’s room will be looking like a perfectly tidy guest room.”</p><p>“James is upstairs choosing a room right now. Once he’s chosen, can you please bring his things up? They’re in the entrance hall.”</p><p>“Yes. I will make sure little master is comfortable.”</p><p>“Thank you, Lorraine,” Harry said, glancing over her shoulder at the stairs and wondering how he’d come to this point of his life, in a secret huddle with Draco and a house-elf.</p><p>Lorraine Disapparated.</p><p>Harry turned to look at Draco and ran a hand through his hair. “Can you <i>believe</i> I managed not to say ‘I told you so’? I am fucking father of the year.”</p><p>Draco raised his hands and performed a slow clap.</p><p>Harry burst out laughing. “Oh, sweet Merlin. Poor James. He’s been put through the wringer. He just went through like five years’ worth of relationship feelings in two months.</p><p>“I do commiserate with his difficulty dating,” Draco said, face creased with amusement. “Not that you or I could <i>possibly </i>have <i>any </i>idea.”</p><p>Harry snorted. “Oh, of course. It is hard. Perhaps he should marry his Hogwarts nemesis and be done with it.”</p><p>“A splendid idea,” Draco agreed, standing. “I’m going to go show him around and see if he needs a Dreamless Sleep.”</p><p>“Alright,” Harry said. “Hey, Draco?”</p><p>He turned, adjusting the belt on his dressing gown.</p><p>“Thank you. I know you didn’t really sign up for James living here.”</p><p>Draco nodded, face unreadable. “On the contrary. It’s exactly what I signed up for.” He walked upstairs.</p><p>Harry sighed, looking around, and started stacking the dishes.</p><p>
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</p><p>Draco’s bedroom looked no different, which had Harry wondering where all his things were. He started opening drawers and wardrobes at random, and found that Lorraine had somehow split the space evenly. Probably through the generous use of magical space.</p><p>Draco walked in, closing the door behind him, and raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Why does my room look like the site of an erumpent stampede?”</p><p>Harry looked around at all the open drawers. “Just trying to findmy shit.”</p><p>The worst part about this having-to-share-a-room-and-bed-with-Draco thing was that Harry couldn’t even be mad about it—because it was for <i>his </i>kid.</p><p>“Sorry about this.” Harry waved his hand; the drawers and doors closed with a synchronised <i>snick</i>. “I know you don’t want me in your bed. I won’t mess up your stuff.”</p><p>Draco laughed softly and sat on an armchair in the corner of the room. “It’s fine. It was bound to happen eventually, husband.”</p><p>Harry pulled a face. “<i>Husband</i>. It’s strange to have a husband. I mean, I <i>was </i>a husband, but I got my appetite for cisheteronormative social institutions out of my system when I was young. I never thought I’d <i>have </i>a husband.”</p><p>Draco untied his shoes. “Imagine telling your fourteen-year-old self that his husband would be Draco Malfoy.”</p><p>“Nope!” Harry popped the ‘p’ with flair. “Can’t imagine it. The fabric of existence would implode.”</p><p>Harry tugged his shirt off and turned around impotently, no idea where he should put it. “Er, do you have a washing basket? Should we get a second, or…?”</p><p>“You can put your stuff in with mine, just over there.” Draco kicked his shoes to the side of the chair. “Lorraine will sort it.”</p><p>Harry looked at the shirt balled in his hand. Harry had pretty much never not washed his own clothes. Harry had washed his clothes (and the entire family’s laundry) at the Dursley’s. He vaguely remembered hearing boys snicker about the awkwardness of trying to wash their own bedsheets when they reached a certain age, and he had sort of looked at them in confusion—they hadn’t always done their own laundry? For his first several years at Hogwarts, he thought his clothes were being laundered not by house-elves, but by Hogwarts magic, so he was used to the process by the time he realised elves were implicated, and he mostly pushed the unfair labor of creatures out of his mind. Once he’d left Hogwarts, he’d always again washed his own clothes. Ginny’d hated doing the wash, and they’d had a strict “each person responsible for their own” routine. But now? His clothes in the same basket with Draco’s? Being cleaned by someone else? </p><p>“How much do you pay Lorraine?”</p><p>Draco raised an eyebrow, but didn’t question Harry’s change of subject. “The minimum wage as set by the Union of House-Elves is four Galleons per hour. I pay Lorraine an annual salary of twelve thousand galleons, which comes to a little over six Galleons per hour. Plus, I fund her son’s University Savings Plan.”</p><p>Harry sighed. Lorraine was, apparently, better paid than Albus, so it wasn’t like he could really object. “Right. Okay. Let me know if you want me to chip in.”</p><p>“It’s fine.” Draco stood, hands on his belt as he prepared to disrobe. “This is a bit awkward, is it not?”</p><p>Harry laughed and unbuttoned his jeans. “Truly. And it’s not the first time we’ve slept in here together, either, but I was completely bladdered last time.” Harry shucked off his jeans and tossed them into Draco’s washing basket. “When you got married to Astoria, what was it like?”</p><p>Draco looked up, surprised, and blew out a big puff of air, his fine hair billowing off his forehead. “I don’t know—I loved her. It felt like, I don’t know. Exciting. Being an adult, fulfilling my role. Sex whenever we wanted. Felt like the future was ours to take.” He paused, pulling off his trousers. “I thought it would be a new beginning.”</p><p>“Was it?”</p><p>Harry cast a Location spell to find which drawer his joggers were in, then walked over to the illuminated drawer. Generally, he slept without pants, but it seemed going a bit too far to drop pants with Draco in the room, and it would be awkward to walk into the loo just to change into his pyjama bottoms. Pants it was, he thought, tugging the joggers on. </p><p>“Nah.” Draco pulled a buttoned pyjama shirt from a drawer and slid his shirt off his shoulders. “No such thing as a new beginning, is there? Only continuing to work your arse off.”</p><p>Harry’s eyes dropped to Draco’s torso—thin scars criss-crossed it. They’d discussed it years ago; at West Wittering beach, of all places, when Scorpius and Albus were teenagers. It was interesting how the scars had aged. The puckered skin of the scars adorned his otherwise unmarred but aging skin. It was a body well-lived in, Harry thought.</p><p>“I guess so,” Harry said as Draco buttoned up his pyjama shirt.</p><p>“What about you? How was it between you and Mrs Potter?”</p><p>Harry rolled his eyes at calling Ginny <i>Mrs Potter. </i>“We loved each other, too. All the things you said, really. I don’t know. I was just so glad to be alive. Ginny and I—we were so glad we were both alive. The whole thing with her and our early marriage…it was like an affirmation of life.”</p><p>“Until it wasn’t?” Draco walked into the bathroom and began to brush his teeth.</p><p>“I guess the funny thing about living is that it doesn’t retain its novelty.” Harry sat on the bed to remove his socks.</p><p>Draco appeared in the doorway to the bathroom, toothbrush in hand. “You don’t mean that in a suicidal way, do you?” He looked oddly concerned.</p><p>“No! No. I didn’t mean that. I never—that’s not one of the mental health difficulties I’ve had to overcome. I just mean like, our relationship was about being excited to be alive, about grabbing that second chance with both hands. But after a while you stop treating each day like a miracle. It becomes just life again, you know? And when it did, it was like there wasn’t enough left between us.”</p><p>Draco nodded, toothbrush bobbing. “Sometimes I think no one should be allowed to get married until they’re over forty.”</p><p>Harry huffed out a laugh. “Isn’t the entire purpose of the institution of marriage to force people to have babies? I’m not sure holding off until after forty really goes along with that goal.”</p><p>“Well of course not, but the institution can go fuck itself,” Draco said with a mouthful of foam, spitting into the sink and rinsing his mouth. “I meant if it was about proper selection of a lifelong romantic partner.”</p><p>“You’re such an ageist. As if young people can’t be in love.”</p><p>“Ugh, you’re right, I’m talking shite. I don’t regret the first go-round. I just didn’t enter it in a way that could’ve lasted long term.”</p><p>“How long were you and Astoria married?” Harry asked, walking into the bathroom and searching for his stuff.</p><p>“About eight years.” Draco, to Harry’s surprise, dropped onto his bottom in the middle of the bedroom, arranged himself cross-legged, and began a series of stretches. “You?”</p><p>“Eleven.”</p><p>Draco had turned his torso to the right, looking behind him. After a moment, he released and twisted the other way. Watching him like this made Harry aware of being an outsider—like he shouldn’t have access to Draco’s before-bed routine.</p><p>“I forgot you bragged about being a yogi,” Harry said, hoping saying something will make him seem less awkward.</p><p>Draco snorted. “Not hardly a yogi. But I feel better if I do stretches before bed.” As if to emphasise his point, his sternum cracked as he raised his arms over his head and back. “Are <i>you </i>secretly a yogi?”</p><p>Harry smiled. “No.” Then he worried that Draco thought he was judging him for the stretching. “But I sustained a shoulder injury at work awhile back and I do rehab exercises to keep it from acting up.”</p><p>Draco stopped stretching and leaned back on his hands. “Well then, go ahead. Let’s see.”</p><p>“Er, right.” Harry realised that he was shirtless, and about to do shoulder exercises. In Draco Malfoy’s bedroom. Sweet Merlin. He laughed. “It’s not much to watch, I assure you.”</p><p>“I’ll be the judge of that, Potter. I’ve been poking fun at you for four decades now; I’m the authority on the matter.”</p><p>Harry laughed and walked to face an open wall. When his chest was almost touching, he raised his palms to the wall and began moving them up and down, counting to thirty. When he finished that, he dropped to a forearm plank, which he held for about ten seconds before Draco started jeering.</p><p>“Drooping already? Pitiful. You’re getting on in years.”</p><p>Harry, still in plank, turned to look at Draco, who was sitting on his arse not doing a damn fucking thing. “Think you can do better? Give me a break.” His voice did sound a bit strained.</p><p>Draco snorted inelegantly and rose onto his knees, then dropped forward, head and arms landing near Harry’s head. “I will absolutely slaughter you.”</p><p>Harry, laughing, dropped onto his stomach. “You’re such a competitive bastard. Okay, hold on, give me a second.”</p><p>“No rest for the weary, Potter!” Draco quipped, summoning his wand. “I’m casting a Stopwatch Charm, ready or not, 3-2-”</p><p>Harry pushed back up onto his forearms and looked at Draco, who mimicked his posture, but whose head faced the floor, grey-blond hair hanging down to obscure his face.</p><p>“My physical therapist told me that the world record for forearm plank is over eight hours,” Harry said, breath tight. “And the record holder is over sixty years old.”</p><p>“Oh Merlin,” Draco said, his arms already shuddering with exertion. “We could take him, Harry. Whomever this sixty-year-old meathead is.”</p><p>Harry laughed, which made it harder to hold the plank. “Don’t make me laugh, you knob.”</p><p>“You’re so weak.”</p><p>“Draco, get your arse down, that’s cheating.”</p><p>“My arse <i>is</i> down!” </p><p>“It is not. I’m fucking looking at it.”</p><p>“Stop looking at my arse!”</p><p>At this, Harry started laughing again, his abs stinging, and he struggled to take a deep breath. </p><p>“I’m still kicking your arse.” Draco’s voice was strained, and he stopped every few words to exhale. Harry wondered how red Draco’s face was.</p><p>“You are <i>not—”</i></p><p>“Hey, Dad?” James called loudly from the corridor. </p><p>Harry and Draco both dropped from their forearms to the floor, attempting to get up to let James in.</p><p>There were three quick knocks on the door, and then it opened. “Dad, I was—”</p><p>They hadn’t yet managed to get off the floor. They were red in the face, short of breath, and rumpled.</p><p>“Whoaaaaaaaaa,” James said, shooting a hand up to cover his eyes. “What the fuck, you two. I’m just going to turn around and pretend I never saw this. Especially that stopwatch.”</p><p>“James, we were just—” Harry began, but he was cut off.</p><p>“Uh huh! Huh! No! Nope!” James, hand over his eyes, walked backwards out of the room, slamming into the wall with some drama before he closed the door. “Continue having a good night!” he shouted from the corridor, before his footsteps sounded up the stairs.</p><p>For a long moment, there was silence. Harry looked at the counter the Stopwatch Charm had projected into the air. It read 01:15:02.</p><p>“Well,” Draco said, leaning on the poshness of his voice, “I suppose that’s today’s enactment of newlywed behaviour ticked off the list.”</p><p>Harry, rolling onto his side, then his knees, burst out laughing. “Fucking hell. I don’t even want to know what he assumes we were doing with the stopwatch. And for the record, we only have about eight hours and ten minutes to go before we beat the world record.”</p><p>Draco was on his back, face scrunched up in silent laughter, hand wiping a tear from his eye. “His face. Oh, sweet Merlin, James’s face.” He heaved an inhale.</p><p>Harry leaned over to flick Draco’s shoulder. “Don’t laugh! He’s probably scarred!”</p><p>“He’s thirty-two! And we’re <i>newlyweds</i>,” Draco squeaked out between laughs. “He should know to wait after knocking, for fuck’s sake.”</p><p>“I would always cast <i>Colloportus </i>if I were, you know…indisposed!” Harry claimed. </p><p>“Sometimes the need to engage in a kinky round of stopwatch-timed orgasms arises extemporaneously, Harry,” Draco said, his face suddenly serious, like he was arguing in front of the Wiz. “Sometimes sexual spontaneity comes at the expense of safety precautions.” </p><p>Harry did his best to fix Draco with a withering look. “I know that. How do you think I ended up with a third kid?”</p><p>That made Draco laugh even harder. It was a good five minutes before they each stopped randomly bursting into renewed laughter.</p><p>“Which side is yours?” Harry asked when they’d finally stopped laughing, sobering up quickly when he realised they were about to get into bed together.</p><p>Draco lifted the blankets on the left side of the bed and climbed in. “Is that fine?”</p><p>“I’m not going to make you switch sides of the bed,” Harry said, sliding into the bed from the other side.</p><p>Draco picked a truly enormous book—<i>Cryptonomicon,</i> read the cover—off his table and propped it against his knees. </p><p>Harry put his glasses and his wand on the side table.</p><p>“I only asked because,” Draco said, turning to look at Harry—and fuck if it wasn’t weird as fuck to be this close in bed together!—“if your shoulder injury makes it easier to be on this side, I would switch. I’m not a monster.”</p><p>“Oh,” Harry said, wishing he were sitting up rather than fully reclined. He felt oddly vulnerable, on his back in Draco’s bed without his glasses, while Draco loomed over him with a huge fucking book. “Er, thanks. But this is fine.”</p><p>Harry whispered <i>Nox </i>to turn off the light on his side of the bed. “Hey,” he said, “did you have a chance to write down what we wanted to ask Bill? I can send the owl tomorrow. About the Triple M, I mean.”</p><p>“Oh, yes, I did it this afternoon. You can add some pleasantries to it and send it off. I would be happy if we could just pay the salaries, as it’s so much easier than dealing with paperwork.”</p><p>“Yes,” Harry agreed, sleepy and sarcastic, “systems in place to make sure finances are legal are <i>so </i>tedious.”</p><p>“Oh, shut up. Like me, you don’t want to do the paperwork to start a foundation or some shite.”</p><p>Harry chuckled and closed his eyes. And waited. And waited.</p><p>Fuck, he would never fall asleep in bed with Draco.</p><p>After about thirty minutes, Draco whispered, “Am I keeping you awake?”</p><p><i>Yes</i>, Harry wanted to say. But not with his light or with the almost-silent noise of pages turning. “No, you’re fine, just having trouble falling asleep.”</p><p>“Do you want a <i>Circadio</i>?”</p><p>Oh. The Circadian Charm wasn’t safe to cast at oneself. Something about the danger of falling asleep as you were casting. No one but Ginny had ever cast it on Harry. “Oh. Er, sure. Thanks.”</p><p>He heard Draco reaching for his wand, then noticed a shower of magic as Draco whispered, “<i>Circadio</i>.” Harry’s body tingled from head to toe, and he was asleep.</p><p>
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</p><p>A piercing alarm and a posh voice grumbling softly (“Wanking cuntbag”) jolted Harry out of sleep.</p><p>“Er, Draco?” Harry blinked in confusion. “What’s wrong?”</p><p>“The motherfucking alarm is what’s wrong,” he moaned into his pillow, rolling onto his stomach and taking the duvet with him.</p><p>Draco’s hair was a mess, sticking up in the back, and if Harry wasn’t mistaken, thinning a bit. He looked every bit like the grumpy, entitled Malfoy heir he’d been at thirteen, only old. </p><p>“Draco,” Harry asked, propping his head on his hand, “are you maybe not much of a morning person?”</p><p>“I’m part of the landed fucking gentry, obviously I’m not a bumblefucking <i>morning person.</i>”</p><p>Harry nudged Draco’s leg with his foot. “Then why are you always awake before me?”</p><p>“Because my dickbag job makes me get out of my beautiful bed and I’m a responsible, redeemed person who works hard, for some reason I’ve forgotten right now.”</p><p>Unable to keep the amusement out of his voice, Harry said, “I, er, never usually hear you curse like this.” Harry reached out and gave Draco’s shoulder a little shake to help him wake up.</p><p>Draco rolled onto his back and pressed his palms against his eyes. “You didn’t know me after the war. My mother actually set a curse on me to stop me cursing. Fancy that, an anti-curse curse. The joke was on her, because I just kept my cuntmongering mouth shut—wouldn’t speak at all—until she relented.”</p><p>“<i>Cuntmongering</i>?!” Harry was laughing freely by now.</p><p>“Shut your pretty fucking arse mouth, Harry Potter.” Draco’s weary tone just made Harry laugh harder.</p><p>“Is this like, your baseline level of cursing? Do you spend every waking moment of every day exercising self-control to keep them inside?” </p><p>Draco let his head fall towards Harry. “Once I become, you know, <i>Draco Malfoy, Solicitor, LabMag member, Scorpius’s father,</i> the desire fades a bit. Also, I simply don’t enjoy waking up at six a.m. The rest of the day is usually not so fucking <i>trying</i>.”</p><p>“You must’ve been a real peach to live with when Scorpius was an infant.”</p><p>“Huh?”  Draco removed his hands from his eyes. “Oh, because babies wake up crying. We had Lorraine, so.”</p><p>Harry, remembering his Six Sleepless Years, held his hand up and hit Draco with a Stinging Hex. “Fucking rich wanker. It’s called <i>parenthood</i>, not <i>elfhood</i>.” Harry hoisted himself out of bed, his knee cracking. “I’m getting up. Your little rich-man self-pity act just went from amusing to gross.”</p><p>Draco flung his hand out to point a finger at Harry. “Don’t <i>even </i>tell me you wouldn’t let a trusted house-elf help with an infant. If you think you wouldn’t, you’re fucking lying to yourself. No one is that much of a martyr, not even the Saviour.”</p><p>“That may be true,” Harry said, because he remembered how desperate he was. “But you’re still a wanker.”</p><p>Draco raised his hands, palms up. “You knew what you were getting, husband.”</p><p>Harry rolled his eyes. “I’m making coffee.”</p><p>
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</p><p>They fell into a routine of sorts—Draco waking in a sea of profanity, Harry blinking awake and watching as Draco dragged himself out of bed, into his dressing gown, and downstairs. They all went to work—Harry worked the longest hours, and Draco usually brought work home with him. James, on the other hand, in his job as sport rehab therapist at St Mungo’s, had a very consistent nine-to-five schedule.</p><p>Which meant that almost every day Harry would arrive home after work, rushing to get back in time for dinner, to find Draco and James in various states of conflict. Or, not <i>conflict</i> exactly, because no one ever so much as raised a voice; perhaps the word was <i>difficulty</i>.</p><p>One time Harry stepped through the Floo to find Draco at the breakfast table, papers spread out in front of him, and James running—loudly—up and down the stairs. Every time James landed on the first floor, Draco flinched.</p><p>“What are you doing, Jamie?” Harry hung his cloak.</p><p>“Cardio!”</p><p>Draco looked up at Harry, his face resting on his hand, fingers mussing his hair. He was a study in weariness. </p><p>Harry only just stopped himself from laughing. “Would you like me to ask him to stop? How long has he been at it?”</p><p>“I really couldn’t say,” Draco drawled. “Though I feel confident in his cardiovascular health.”</p><p>Another time, Harry arrived home to find the vestibule littered with Amazon boxes. “Uh, Draco? Have you been Muggle online shopping?!”</p><p>“I have not,” Draco responded from his spot on the sofa, a book on his lap. Harry could tell he was annoyed because he kept squeezing his wand hand.</p><p>“What did James order?”</p><p>“He ‘doesn’t remember’. Every few minutes he comes downstairs, slashes open a box with <i>Diffindo</i>, and exclaims with joy.” Draco tapped his fingers on his book. “It’s like Christmas morning.”</p><p>“Have you ever had a Muggle delivery to the house before?” It seemed important for Harry to get the mental image as clear as possible in his mind.</p><p>“No, I have not. Did Lorraine answer the door? Yes, she did. Did I have to Obliviate the delivery person? Yes, I did.” He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t arrest me, Auror Potter.”</p><p>Harry laughed, somewhat discombobulated by Draco calling him <i>Auror Potter.</i> “Should I send the boxes up to his room?”</p><p>“Don’t bother.” Draco closed his eyes in resignation. “This way we know that the cardboard is Vanished properly. Plus, who am I to rob him of the joy of showing me the newest addition to his Martin Miggs Funko Pop collection? And his battery-powered massaging back pillow?”</p><p>Draco was not new to parenting. He wasn’t even new to parenting a Potter. (Albus had once told Harry he had a team of parents: Ginny, Harry, all his aunts and uncles, Draco.) But he was new to parenting <i>James</i>. And their home was very much not the same as it had been before James arrived.</p><p>Harry stepped through the Floo. “Hello?”</p><p>It was bizarrely silent.</p><p>“I’m in here.” </p><p>Harry followed Draco’s voice to the breakfast table, where he sat surrounded by newspapers, papers, four giant law books, and a wineglass.</p><p>Harry rubbed at his ears. “What’s going on in here?”</p><p>“I had to cast an Impermeable Sound Barrier. Silencing Charm wasn’t enough. Would you rather your eardrums malfunction or listen to James’s music?”</p><p>“Er, what’s he playing?”</p><p>Draco, fingers stretched around the stem of his wineglass, grabbed his wand and swished it.</p><p>
  <i>I’M SO FANCY, YOU ALREADY KNOW! I’M IN THE FAST LANE FROM LA TO TOKYO!</i>
</p><p>Draco raised an eyebrow, as if to ask Harry if he’d like to continue listening. When Harry shook his head, Draco recast his sound barrier.</p><p>Harry dropped into the chair next to Draco. “Sorry about that. You know, you told him to make himself at home and you haven’t once asked him to stop doing these things. If you did, I’m sure he would listen. Aren’t you supposed to be a Slytherin? I always figured Slytherins were awesome at parenting authority.”</p><p>Draco leaned forward. “He is a grown man! And I don’t want him to hate me! Do you know how easy it would be for him to cast me as the Evil Stepfather?”</p><p>Harry snorted. “Evil Stepfather isn’t even a trope.” </p><p>“Of course it is,” Draco said, sipping his wine. “The Evil Stepfather is the one with anger issues and a six-pack of beer.”</p><p>“What are you working on?” Harry gestured at the book that was larger than the <i>Monster Book of Monsters</i>. </p><p>“Trying to build a case against Anouska Rump. Well, trying to build a case to show that she is making money off Daddy Norris’s Ministry.”</p><p>Harry sat back, his face contorting in disgust. “Never say the words ‘Daddy Norris’ to me again, or I’m divorcing you.”</p><p>“I’m trying to figure out the best way to stop them,” Draco continued, ignoring Harry. “This goes way beyond nepotism. They’re using magical tax dollars to line their pockets. They’re standing in front of the nation, telling people to support specific companies. Anouska’s company is referenced in official materials! Rump owns a company that collected contributions from witches and wizards who want to stop the ‘threat of foreign magic’, but it looks like he and his advisers pocketed most of the money. This <i>should </i>be enough to throw them in Azkaban, Harry!”</p><p>Harry grimaced. Truthfully, he found it difficult to stay engaged when the political talk turned to finances, but Rump always disgusted him, so a grimace was always an appropriate reaction. “Do you need help?”</p><p>Draco snorted. “Have you suddenly developed an interest in financial graft?”</p><p>“Well, no.” Harry winced as James landed behind them with a loud <i>thud</i>. “But I can bring you a drink or something.”</p><p>Draco gestured at the wineglass. “I already have a drink.” He peered toward the staircase. “Do you think James has plans this weekend, or…?”</p><p>It was Friday. The prospect of a weekend of James’s antics was a weighty one even for Harry, for whom James was his beloved first born and who had decades of practice dealing with James’s idiosyncrasies. </p><p>“I don’t know. We should…” Harry paused. He wasn’t sure what he was suggesting here, or what his goal was. Usually, it was a matter of prioritizing Dad Harry or prioritizing Head of DMLE Harry. This was something different. This was…wanting to help Draco. At least, Harry guessed that’s what he was feeling. “Why don’t we go out tomorrow? Do something fun? That way we can get away from…” He waved a hand toward the clomping. “…all this.”</p><p>Draco raised an eyebrow. “Do something fun?”</p><p>Harry shifted awkwardly. “Whatever, if you don’t like the idea idea, you can—”</p><p>“No, it’s a good idea. We should get out, you’re right.” Draco reached for his wineglass. “We both work too hard. It’s just—‘something fun’. Like what?”</p><p>Harry raised his hands, shrugging. “I dunno. Film? Flying?”</p><p>“Is this a game in which all our ‘fun’ suggestions must start with the letter F?” Draco asked, amusement twinkling in his eyes.</p><p>“Foraging for mushrooms?” Harry played along.</p><p>“Fromage?” Draco ventured.</p><p>Harry frowned. “Is ‘cheese’ an activity?”</p><p>Draco fixed him with a pitying look. “Obviously.”</p><p>Harry inclined his head. “Fair. Erm. I really don’t know.”</p><p>It’d been ages since Harry had tried to come up with a weekend activity. Not since his kids became teenagers who didn’t want to hang with their dad on the weekend. When his kids were little, he’d taken them all sorts of places, both magical and Muggle, on the weekends. They had a membership at a Muggle science museum and the Diagon Alley <i>Little Wix’s Art that Charms</i> series. They’d gone to films and Quidditch games and football games and, one long weekend, to Scotland for the Gourock Highland Games. He’d taken them to see their favourite children’s musician, Lonnie Smack, in a park.  Every autumn they’d gone to the Godric’s Hollow Mabon Festival. </p><p>Thoughts of all those fun things he used to do is jarring—why had he stopped? He’d loved all those things. Well, he <i>knew</i> why he’d stopped—his kids didn’t want to do those things with him anymore.</p><p>He still went to Quidditch games, of course, especially when James had still been playing, and football games, sometimes, with Dean and Seamus and Luna, who had unexpectedly become an enthusiastic follower of the sport. Luna was an ardent supporter of the Swindon Spitfires, whose women’s team had been around since the sixties; the Spits, Luna would tell anyone who would listen, had played without an associated men’s team until 2011. So Harry had watched a surprising amount of regional women’s football.</p><p>But those things aside—he did nothing on weekends, now. He sat around and caught up on work, or saw his kids or Ron and Hermione. He babysat his niblings or grand-niblings sometimes. It’d been so long since he’d tried to come up with something to do.</p><p>“Let’s go to the zoo,” Harry ventured, knowing as soon as he said it that he’d chosen the perfect activity. Outdoors, entertaining, Muggle, snacks. It would take them hours to see all the animals. “Have you ever been to the zoo?”</p><p>“I’ve been to the Magical Menagerie,” Draco insisted defensively.</p><p>“That’s a <i>pet store</i>.”</p><p>“No, the <i>original </i>Magical Menagerie—the magical creature zoo in Paris.”</p><p>“Okay, so the answer is no, you haven’t been to the regular zoo.”</p><p>“Who are you, Harry Potter, to define regularity?” Draco was teasing—and enjoying himself immensely, if Harry was reading him correctly. “Surely for magical French people, the Magical Menagerie is the default zoo experience.”</p><p>“Dad!” James called. “Spot me!”</p><p>Harry cursed under his breath. He’d learned decades ago that nothing good ever came after <i>Dad, spot me. </i>He flung out his wand, casting Cushioning Charms on the landing and all surrounding walls. And ceiling, for good measure.</p><p>Not one second after he’d finished, they watched James do a full backflip off the middle of the stairs. He landed on his feet with a stumble, laughing all the while. “Holy shit, I haven’t done that in <i>ages</i>.”</p><p>Draco turned to Harry. “The zoo sounds delightful.”</p><p>
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</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span class="font-white">...</span>
</p><p>“Are there any special dressing guidelines for the zoo?” Draco asked, looking into his wardrobe. He had already pushed through his early morning profanity and had wrapped himself in a dressing gown.</p><p>Harry was still in bed. “Yes, there’s a special outfit you have to buy. It has a kilt and a little matching jumper that says ‘zoo visitor’.”</p><p>Draco turned slowly to fix Harry with a glare. “Are you incapable of answering a question without snark?”</p><p>Harry nodded grimly. “Yes.”</p><p>Turning back to the wardrobe, Draco sighed. “Jeans and a jumper? Tell me if I’m wrong. If I’ve learned one thing about Muggle life, it’s that jeans and a jumper will suffice for almost any occasion.”</p><p>Harry considered that. He supposed it was true, though it would depend on <i>which </i>jeans and <i>which </i>jumper. But knowing Draco’s jeans (well tailored) and Draco’s jumpers (generally cashmere), Harry had to admit that it would be an appropriate outfit for the zoo, the theatre, and, indeed, most restaurants. Draco, at fifty-six, seemed to have cracked the Muggle code.</p><p>“Jeans and a jumper are perfect,” Harry said, rolling out of bed.</p><p>
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</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span class="font-white">...</span>
</p><p>“How have you never been to the zoo?” Harry asked as they walk out the front door and into the chilly sunshine. “It’s like a ten-minute walk from your house. We can walk on the canal.”</p><p>Draco shrugged. “People never visit the tourist attractions closest to where they live.”</p><p>Harry nodded, tucking his hands into his jacket pockets. The October air was colder than he’d expected. “How was work this week?”</p><p>Draco gave him an odd look, the breeze ruffling his hair. “Do you really want to know?”</p><p>“We both hate small talk,” Harry said. “If I’m asking, I am showing genuine interest.”</p><p>Draco paused at a zebra crossing. “It’s alright. I’m trying to delegate.”</p><p>The light changed, and they joined a group of people crossing the street, heading down to the path on the canal. “You’re—<i>you </i>are trying to delegate? You strike me as a person who hates delegating.”</p><p>“Of course I hate delegating,” Draco replied. “No one else completes tasks as well as I would.”</p><p>Harry laughed as they passed a restaurant advertising brunch and mimosas. “Of course.”</p><p>“But I can’t take on big cases while also dealing with this Rump stuff and trying to prepare for a political campaign. Any word on the campaign to get rid of the Taboo?”</p><p>“I expect they’ll break any day,” Harry said, grinning. “The Taboo has been triggered no fewer than ten thousand times each day this past week. Lily says she’s completely won over by the Arabic cleaning spell, by the way. She says she’ll never go back to Scourgify.”</p><p>Draco laughed, delighted. “Rump’s plan worked perfectly, then. He exposed Britons to spells they never would’ve known about, otherwise.”</p><p>They reached the zoo quickly; Harry purchased tickets, blinking a bit at the fact that it cost ninety pounds for the two of them. He used to have the family membership; he expects the expired member card is still stuffed somewhere in his wallet’s magically extended space. </p><p>“Is this a place people only come with children?” Draco asked, looking around. “I feel ancient.”</p><p>“You <i>are</i> ancient.” Harry took his change, their tickets, and a map and thanked the person who helped them. As they walked through the ticketing area, he continued, “I think people tend to come with children, but it’s hard to see why. It’s not like animals are only interesting to children. Which animals do you most fancy seeing? Ferrets?”</p><p>“Har har.” Draco peered at the map. “How about no lions, no snakes? We see the…” He swirled his finger around above the map, looking, then stabbed it down. “The flamingoes. They’re right near the butterflies and penguins, too.”</p><p>“Alright,” Harry agreed, heading in that direction. “I expect the zoo staff is happy I won’t be visiting the Reptile House. When I was a child, I caused a bit of an incident at the Reptile House at the zoo in Surrey.”</p><p>“What type of ‘incident’?” Draco raised an eyebrow.</p><p>Harry explained about his accidental magic accidentally setting a boa constrictor loose in the zoo and accidentally trapping his cousin behind the glass. </p><p>Draco’s laughter was so loud it startled a boy looking at the gorillas. “What did they do? And you didn’t know you were a wizard? How did your aunt and uncle cover for you?”</p><p>Harry’s good mood deflated. “Well, let’s see. Smacked me around a little and locked me in my cupboard. But not until after they bought my cousin a giant ice cream and wouldn’t buy me any.”</p><p>Draco’s head whipped toward him, eyes narrowed as if to tell whether Harry was joking. “You’re serious.”</p><p>Harry shrugged, not wanting to talk about that part. The snake part was a good story, the rest of it was not. “Flamingoes,” he said, pointing, glad for a distraction.</p><p>They stood in silence, watching them for a minute. Some of them stepped their long legs carefully through the water and pecked their peaks, looking for fish. Others stood on one leg and picked at their feathers with their beak, grooming.</p><p>“Huh,” Draco said speculatively after a stretch of silence. “Turns out flamingoes are boring. More boring still than peacocks, and I thought they were dull.”</p><p>“Maybe you should get a pet flamingo and feed it food without that pink coloring, so you could have an albino flamingo,” Harry suggested, watching as a little one tripped on a rock. “One-up your parents.”</p><p>“Yes, that’s exactly my goal in life,” Draco said as they headed toward the Butterfly House. “To one-up my parents in all of their bizarre life choices.”</p><p>Harry laughed as they went through the double doors designed to keep the butterflies from escaping. </p><p>“Ew,” Draco whispered. “It is hot in here.” </p><p>Harry nodded. He hated the humidity in here. “It’s worth it though, because—”</p><p>Harry didn’t finish his sentence; two blue butterflies flitted right in front of them, landing on a plate of cut fruit that nestled between tropical plants. </p><p>Draco stepped forward, leaning over to inspect them. “They’re exquisite.”</p><p>Harry watched as one of them stuck its sucker thing into a chunk of mango. “Whenever I’m at the zoo, I wonder whether any of these animals have magic in them. They give me the same sense of wonder I get when I see magical things.”</p><p>Draco turned, and their faces, bent over the butterflies, were very close. “Not everything that’s wonderful is magic, Potter.”</p><p>A yellow butterfly flapped between them, landing directly on Draco’s forehead. He stood, abruptly stiff. “Harry. <i>Harry</i>. Get it off me.”</p><p>Harry, though, was laughing and reaching for his phone to snap a picture. “Draco. Look at me. Smile!”</p><p>Draco’s face contorted into a rictus of disgust. “Get. It. Off. Me! I don’t want to smash it and get butterfly guts all over my <i>face</i>!”</p><p>Harry repeatedly tapped the button to take a photo. He wanted every moment of this documented. “Smile! Then I’ll get it off.”</p><p>Draco leaned forward, glaring in a manner that was likely supposed to be menacing, though the flapping butterfly on his face somewhat ruined the effect. Harry clicked the button. “Get it off!”</p><p>Harry didn’t want to hurt it, so he leaned forward and blew at it, pursing his lips to send a stream of air that would nudge it off Draco’s face. The stubborn bugger didn’t move, so Harry blew again.</p><p>“Are you <i>blowing</i> my fucking <i>face</i>?!” Draco hissed, his cheeks turning bright red. He was whispering, but loud enough for a mother standing near them to fix them with dirty looks as she ushered her children away from the cursing middle-aged men.</p><p>Harry dissolved into laughter, doubling over and clutching at his stomach. “I’m sorry—you just—that mean face coupled with the fucking butterfly—”</p><p>Draco pursed his lips, looked around surreptitiously, and pulled his wand, casting at Harry’s face before tucking it back in his holster.</p><p>Harry reached for his nose, sensing the magic, but not knowing what it had done. “What did you do? Did you give me a clown nose or something?”</p><p>“Nope!” Draco said, popping the ‘p.’ </p><p>Within a few seconds, two butterflies landed on Harry’s nose. “Hey! <i>What</i> did you do?”</p><p>“Just put some ripe fruit taste on you.”</p><p>“Draco!” Trying to see past the flapping wings, Harry cast a spell at Draco’s upper lip. </p><p>When three landed atop the curve of Draco’s lip, Draco freaked out. He tried not to let on that he was freaking out, but he was freaking out, and Harry couldn’t stop laughing.</p><p>It took them ages to get out of the butterfly house, as every butterfly seemed to want to get a taste of Harry’s nose and Draco’s lip—even after they cast discreet <i>Finites</i>. The staff had to lure the butterflies away after trapping a dozen runaways in the exit area. </p><p>It felt like being a kid, but like being a <i>carefree </i>kid. Harry realised he didn’t have a script for this. His happy adult Harry self didn’t go to zoos and act silly and just have fun. It was exhilarating.</p><p>“I will never forgive you for that,” Draco said, hair a mess, cheeks pink, after they finally got outside. “I barely escaped with my life.” He rubbed his lip, then stuck his tongue out surreptitiously as if testing whether he tasted of tropical fruit. </p><p>Harry’s eyes dropped to Draco’s lip. He wanted to test it. He wanted to lean in and kiss Draco, swipe his tongue over that lip. He might taste of pineapple or papaya. </p><p>But no one was here to see, so Harry coughed and turned, pointing toward the penguins. “How’s your tolerance of rotten fish smell?”</p><p>“We’re <i>wizards</i>,” Draco said. “There are charms to block smells.”</p><p>“Oh yeah,” Harry said. He knew those charms well—every parent did. But he’d never used them outside of the context of changing nappies, so he hadn’t thought of it.</p><p>“But before we visit the penguins,” Draco said. “Give me the map.”</p><p>Harry handed it over and let Draco lead. Draco was probably going to take them to the Reptile House, despite earlier claims to the contrary, and give Harry some kind of lecture on Slytherin pride.</p><p>The zoo was good people watching, Harry decided, as they walked. Muggles were as interesting a group as wizards, really. Especially the children. He saw one little girl who kept grabbing the hem of her dress and tucking it into the neck, leaving her belly and nappy exposed while her parents tried fruitlessly to get her to leave it.</p><p>Harry laughed. “It makes you wonder. If all human children start off as nudists, why are so few adults?”</p><p>Draco turned to him with a deeply confused look. “What?”</p><p>“Did you see that little girl? My kids were naked like, <i>all </i>the time. When they were small.”</p><p>Draco sighed. “Well, I suppose we’re lucky that James outgrew that before he came to stay with us.”</p><p>Harry laughed. “Don’t you remember that with Scorpius?”</p><p>“Scorpius was only ever naked in the bath.”</p><p>“<i>Ever</i>?”</p><p>Draco nodded.</p><p>Harry wrinkled his nose. “How?! How did you manage that? I turned my back for <i>one </i>second and all three of my kids would be naked and doing the conga.”</p><p>“Perhaps it’s the stuffy pure blood,” Draco mused. “A genetic disinclination to fun and joie de vivre.”</p><p>Harry snorted with laughter and rolled his eyes. “That’s ridiculous, obviously. Scorpius is a fun-loving person. And so are you, even if you try to deny it.”</p><p>Draco pointed a menacing finger. “You take that back. My teenage emo phase was more intense than most. Don’t sully my sinister reputation.”</p><p>“Admit it!” Harry enthused, gesturing around them. “You love having fun. Where are we going, anyway?”</p><p>Draco shook his head, unwilling to give up his surprise. “Sit on this bench. I’ll be back in just a moment.”</p><p>Harry sat, content to watch as families and young couples and a grandmother with a toddler walked by. His mind wandered to the pregnancy for which Albus and Scorpius were setting up adoption. The baby was due to be born in the Spring, and Harry was so hoping that it wouldn’t fall through. He knew it was a tremendous disappointment any time a lead fell through. And a magical pregnancy in which the witch wanted to carry to term and put the baby up for adoption was <i>rare</i>. If it didn’t work, they’d probably need to find a surrogate or adopt an older child, which would be fine, but also very difficult. They didn’t want to adopt a Muggle baby because it seemed cruel to bring a non-magical child into a magical world, home, and family. Why bring a child into a place where they would feel like they didn’t belong, on top of not being a blood relative? It was all such a mess, and all Harry wanted was to be through it, and to have a grandbaby on the other end. And bring them to the zoo.</p><p>“Alright,” Draco’s voice said from behind the bench, sounding smug. “Close your eyes. Hold out your hands.”</p><p>Harry closed his eyes, amused despite himself. A heavy, circular paper container pressed into his hands. He opened his eyes.</p><p>It was a truly enormous ice cream sundae. At least five scoops of a variety of flavors, whipped cream, cherries, sprinkles, chocolate sauce, chocolate candies.</p><p>“Are those M&amp;Ms?” Harry asked, blinking up at Draco.</p><p>“I don’t know. I told them to put a little of everything.” He handed Harry a plastic spoon.</p><p>Harry found himself at a loss for words. He’d thought he’d worked through his childhood zoo issues. He’d been here so many times as an adult, without the abuse of the Dursleys. He had so many wonderful memories here, so many trips with his kids.</p><p>But no one had ever bought Harry an ice cream before. </p><p><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27382978">His mouth split into a wide smile.</a> “Thank you.”</p><p>Draco sat next to him with his own, much smaller, ice cream.</p><p>It was delicious—and more so because it was decadent and over-the-top and completely unnecessary, and bought just for him by someone else. For a moment, he was suffused with a sensation of warmth he was not at all used to.</p><p>“Harry! Harry Potter!” a voice called. “Draco!”</p><p>Oh, <i>shit. </i></p><p>Draco groaned. “Not safe from the pap even at a Muggle zoo.”</p><p>Harry looked around, and sure enough—a wizard with a camera, over by the wildlife garden. He sighed, threw his arm around Draco, and muttered, “Well, we may as well smile, if we’re going to be on the front page of the Prophet eating ice cream.”</p><p>Draco leaned closer as they posed for fifteen seconds, then told the bloke to get lost.</p><p>The ice cream tasted worse after that reminder of the outside world. A reminder that, when it came down to it, they were still just putting on a show.</p><p>Well, the<i> ice cream</i> wasn’t a show, was it? The ice cream was real. The posing on the bench was a show. </p><p>Harry frowned at his mint chip.</p><p>“This map says we can upgrade our tickets to an annual membership,” Draco said after the pap left, pointing at the map. “We should do that.”</p><p>Harry nodded. “Good idea.” </p><p>He would make the best of it, even if it wasn’t real. “Let’s go see the otters.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Shout out to partialtopotter's <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/chapters/25990365">Howlr</a>, which is referenced in this chapter.</p><p>Thanks to Corie for the zoo idea. 💞</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Winter 2037</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Friends, I had so hoped to get this chapter done earlier, but turns out that facilitating remote learning for two kids is like, a lot of work? On the bright side, we get a Christmassy chapter right at Christmas. Hope you're well! Merry Christmas, happy holidays, happy new year!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was Lorraine's day off, so Harry was cooking one of his signature dishes—James's favourite, Shepherd's Pie. Draco, who, before Harry had moved in, used to have Lorraine leave food for him to heat up on her days off, stood uselessly against the counter, holding a bottle of Voss sparkling water that he'd bought when Harry took him food shopping.</p><p>"It's hard to tell from what the <i>Prophet</i> is reporting." Harry pulled his favourite knife out of the block and sliced lengthwise down the carrot. "How much do Ministers <i>usually </i>get involved at Hogwarts? I don't know what to compare it against."</p><p>Draco flung out his hand, pointing to the chopping block. "Why do you do that?"</p><p>Harry frowned at the carrots, which were now in a neat pile of sticks, ready to be diced. "Cut the carrots? Because they'd be hard to chew in the pie if I left them whole?"</p><p>Draco loosed a loud sigh, which made Harry grin. "No. I meant, you peeled with a charm and then chopped with the knife. Why don't you simply chop with a charm?"</p><p>"Oh." Harry watched himself effortlessly move the knife, watched as the sticks of carrots became a pile of little carrot cubes, listened to the <i>shunk shunk </i>of the blade hitting the wood. He shrugged, looking up at Draco. "I use magic for the parts I don't like. Peeling is the devil's kitchen task."</p><p>Draco blinked, as if Harry were some kind of great mystery. "Does the devil have other kitchen tasks, or just peeling?"</p><p>"Definitely has others." Harry pushed the pile of cubed carrots to the side and cut another down the middle. <i>Shunk</i>. "Cutting fat off raw meat, for example. I'll use magic for that every time." He rotated the domed carrot halves. <i>Shunk</i>. "Also, deveining prawns. And washing lettuce."</p><p>"Right," Draco said, seeming to shake himself. "Anyway, Ministers don't usually have <i>any </i>involvement with Hogwarts. There's the Board of Governors, of course, and some regulations mandated by the Minimally Competent Students Committee. But for the most part, Ministers are not involved at all." Draco winced. "With notable exception circa 1995, of course."</p><p>Harry pushed the second carrot to join the diced pile. "The real question is, has Rump recruited any snotty blond pure-bloods to police the halls of the castle?"</p><p>For a long moment, Draco was silent, and Harry worried he'd made a grave miscalculation with regard to Draco's banter threshold.</p><p>Then an onion hit Harry in the side of the head.</p><p>"Ow!"</p><p>"Har, har, har." Draco crossed his arms. "You know—you <i>must</i> know—that, at the time, I had no idea the extent of the evil of that nefarious little…what did she call it? Team? Clique? Posse?"</p><p>Harry's knife stilled. "It was like, the Inquisition Gang. No. Inquisition Troop? I can't fucking remember."</p><p>"Investigation Brigade? I don't know. Whatever it was called. I thought I was signing up for a spot of school-sanctioned bullying, not to be a Death Eater. That came later. False advertising, it was."</p><p>"Right," Harry said. "Wouldn't want to get the timing wrong as we look back on the long list of your childhood misdeeds." He finished with the carrots and grabbed an onion and his wand, Vanishing the onion peel, then swapped wand for knife and sliced off the root end. "So it's really bad, then. That Rump is passing laws about what Hogwarts can teach."</p><p>"Really bad," Draco agreed. "Hermione didn't have the full details yet, just the news that it's coming. He'll probably prohibit teaching 'foreign' spells, and possibly some of the cultural curricula."</p><p>Harry turned to him, leaning his hip against the counter. "You think he'll outlaw Muggle Studies?"</p><p>Draco frowned. "I don't know. Outlawing Muggle Studies might cause too much outrage. I think maybe that's too blatant."</p><p>That made sense. Harry knew that the public reaction would be strong and negative if Muggle Studies was forcibly removed from the Hogwarts curriculum. But if they outlawed certain spells or theory in a variety of classes, it would be harder to convince people that it was a xenophobia-motivated overstep. They'd inevitably justify it on some grounds like 'teaching only appropriate magic' or 'Arabic magic is dangerous' or something bigoted and dog-whistly like that, so that people wouldn't realise how deep the censoring actually went.</p><p>"I guess there's not much we can do until we know exactly what he's prohibiting," Harry said, sighing and turning back to his onion.</p><p>The Floo sounded from the vestibule and James's voice shouted, "DAD! I BOUGHT A CASTLE!"</p><p>Harry, incredulous, turned slowly towards Draco.</p><p>Draco had closed his eyes, his lips twitching up in amusement. "He's your son, Potter," he whispered with relish as he gestured towards the Floo.</p><p>James careened into the room. "Dad. Draco. I bought a <i>castle</i>."</p><p>"Er, you said," Harry replied. "Congratulations? But like, how? Why?"</p><p>"Where?" Draco added, as if that were helpful.</p><p>James flung open the refrigerator. "It's in Bucks, so like, within Apparating distance. It's <i>tiny</i>. Well, tiny for a castle. Like you know how Muggles have tiny houses? It's like that, only a castle. Anyway, it's been magically renovated and everything—working Floo, anything I could ever want. Tons of space around for flying." He closed the door, having emerged with an energy drink. "It is <i>wicked</i>."</p><p>"So you made an offer?" Draco asked, slipping easily into that upper-class persona that thought chatter about real estate or insurance passed for conversation.</p><p>"Oh, it's done," James said, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "It's mine. They adjusted the wards and everything."</p><p>Harry blinked, the concerned-parent mantle settling effortlessly onto his shoulders. "Did you have it inspected? Did you bring anyone else to see it? Are you sure they didn't rip you off? How did you have enough money?"</p><p>A warm hand fell on Harry's shoulder; he jumped. Draco. Draco had stepped forward, standing directly behind him. No doubt this hand-on-shoulder thing was meant to tell Harry to calm the fuck down.</p><p>James, unconcerned, waved a hand. "I have plenty of money." He held up a hand, cutting off Harry's interjection. "And don't worry, I still give ten percent to charity every year. You successfully hammered your ethical standards into me. I know I'm very privileged. I know. But still, I was a Quidditch star. I make so much money <i>still</i> for the ads I did for Sleekeazy's. I've got plenty for the tiny castle." James paused, looking up at the ceiling and around the kitchen. "Actually, it probably cost less than this place. Despite it being a castle and everything. How much did this bedsit set you back, Draco?"</p><p>Draco's fingers clenched almost imperceptibly on Harry's shoulder.</p><p>"Don't answer that," Harry said, more for James's benefit than Draco's. "Alright, Jamie, sorry I questioned your finances. So when can I see it?"</p><p>James grinned widely. "Whenever you want, Dad! My castle is your castle. I cannot wait to show it to you, and definitely bring your brooms because like I said, it is <i>perfect</i> for flying." He turned, looking around the room for a moment, and then spun back towards them. "I am so fucking excited! This is like, so <i>fancy</i>. I have my own place!"</p><p>Harry's skeptical heart thawed and suddenly all he could feel was happiness for his son's excitement. Why shouldn't he buy a home? He was plenty old enough—James was 32, nearly a decade older than Harry had been when James was born.</p><p>And fuck if <i>that</i> didn't make Harry feel old.</p><p>He stepped forward and wrapped James in a big hug, squeezing tight and settling in for a long one. James's arms wrapped around Harry's back, returning the squeeze, but then James walked them backward and flung out one of his arms to yank Draco into the hug.</p><p>"In this family," James declared, "stepdads are included in overly sentimental hugs." Draco let himself be pulled into it.</p><p>Harry stiffened for a moment. This was strange. It felt wrong—James thinking that he was including his dad's lover, but really he was just including his dad's husband-on-paper. He felt like he was lying to James but also like he was lying to himself—because he <i>liked </i>this. He <i>wanted </i>this, or something like it, at least.</p><p>He'd never been successful, after Ginny, in finding someone who could act normally around him <i>and </i>around his kids. When he and Ginny were recently divorced and he'd been seriously considering dating men, he'd sometimes fantasised about what it would be like to date someone like Neville—a friend who would understand the war, who would treat him like <i>just Harry</i>. The problem was, Harry wasn't interested in Neville, or anyone else like him, and the people he found attractive and wanted to date were never the ones who could maybe actually fit into his life. Fit into his <i>whole</i> life—Harry's life was a lot more than just <i>Harry</i>. Harry's life was his kids, and the Weasleys, and his work. Mostly his kids.</p><p>And here Harry was standing in the kitchen of a swank townhome that he owned half of, in a group hug with James and Draco, and all Harry could think was—well, <i>this </i>was what he wanted. Wasn't it?</p><p>Harry pulled away, jolted out of his musings by James's thrilled smile.</p><p>"When do you move in?" Draco asked, and to his credit his question didn't sound eager.</p><p>"Tonight!" James cried. "If it's alright to ask Lorraine for help."</p><p>Lorraine appeared at his side with a wide smile. It was a little creepy to Harry how she did that without being specifically called, but James didn't seem to mind. "Master James, of course I help!"</p><p>James grinned at the elf and Disapparated; Lorraine followed. Loud bangs sounded from the fifth floor.</p><p>Harry and Draco looked at each other for a long moment, then Draco said, "Right. We should—we should make a hamper for his new house. Food and things he'll need."</p><p>Harry nodded, glad for the distraction, and unsure why he felt so sad. "Let's put in those pickled cucumbers he bought. No way am I going to eat those."</p><p>
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</p><p>After his sudden appearance, James had been with them for almost two months. And now, just as suddenly, he was gone.</p><p>Harry stood in the vestibule staring at the place from which James and Lorraine had Disapparated.</p><p>That was the thing about kids. You had them, and then you didn't. They needed you, and then they didn't. They <i>left</i>. It was like that first day dropping James off at the Little School for Witches and Wizards, when Ginny'd had to tug Harry away. Okay, maybe it wasn't exactly like that, but it was adjacent. It was their job to leave.</p><p>Draco cleared his throat, and when he spoke, his voice was gentler than Harry expected. "You alright?"</p><p>Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I suppose. He doesn't belong here with us."</p><p>With <i>us</i>. That was strange.</p><p>Draco shrugged, walking closer. "He belongs here when he needs you. They all do. But stop being so wet. It's a bad look on you, Potter."</p><p>Harry snorted. "Yeah alright. It's late. We should go to—"</p><p>Bed. Harry's stuff was still in Draco's room. They'd been sleeping in the same bed, talking to each other before they fell off to sleep, sharing each other's warmth from an arm's width away, listening to each other's morning expletives for weeks. Harry hadn't been so well rested since—well, maybe ever, thanks to Draco's Circadios.</p><p>Draco's face froze; he seemed to realise at the same moment. He searched Harry's face—for what, Harry didn't know.</p><p>"Why don't you grab what you need for tonight," Draco said eventually, "and we can have Lorraine move the rest of your things in the morning?"</p><p>"That's—that's a good idea," Harry said.</p><p>And it was what he wanted, wasn't it?</p><p>
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</p><p>Harry's room on the fourth floor was the worst.</p><p>Well, it was <i>nice</i>, objectively. But it felt like a guest room, and this was supposed to be his home. He'd somehow got used to sleeping in the master suite, where things felt lived in and un-lonely.</p><p>He dressed as quickly as possible these days, because his room felt a bit like a cell. Today he ate quickly, too, needing to get to the office, needing…something. To move.</p><p>"Good day, laddy!" Wilhelm said as Harry stepped into his office. "It's 8:46 in the am. Top o' the morning!"</p><p>One thing about being friends with a sentient clock was that he always thought the time was an appropriate topic of conversation.</p><p>"Hey Wilhelm," Harry said, smiling. "How's life?"</p><p>He wondered briefly if that was an offensive question to ask a wooden woodcutter, but Wilhelm didn't blink. "Ah, I <i>wood</i> say, pretty good today! I am making inroads with the Minister's file cabinet."</p><p>Harry set down his bag and turned to Wilhelm with interest. For months, the woodcutter had been trying to befriend one of Rump's sentient objects. "Wait. He has a sentient file cabinet? But…that would have access to the content of all his files!"</p><p>"Exactly," Wilhelm agreed, hinging at the waist to touch his little boots, some morning calisthenics. "Her name is Wanda, and she organises everything. From what I can gather, she's not too happy about his lack of appreciation for her considerable filing skill."</p><p>Harry grinned. "You don't say."</p><p>"Mmmm." Wilhelm spun around on the little circular piece of ground to which he was affixed. "And I made sure not to mention to whom in the Ministry my loyalties belong."</p><p>There was a knock at the door, and Jorgen poked his head in. "Mr. Potter, you've got a message to call Albus."</p><p>Harry whirled around, knocking into a chair. His head was all over the place these days, but mention of Albus—which could only mean news of the baby—was a surefire way to get his full, focused attention. "Did he say what about?"</p><p>"No, and he said to tell you that it's not urgent and that you shouldn't worry. I believe his exact words were, 'Tell my dad not to get his wand in a knot.'" Jorgen smiled.</p><p>"Ha ha." Harry sighed. "Thanks."</p><p>As soon as Jorgen was gone, Harry reached for the Floo powder.</p><p>"Begging your pardon!" Wilhelm said in an offended voice.</p><p>"Oh," Harry said, wincing. "Right, sorry." He reached up and gently pulled Wilhelm's circular footing off the clock. He placed him on the corner of the desk, leaning next to the teetering pile of papers. "How's that?" One of Wilhelm's ongoing qualms was his inability to see the Floo from his clock, which was above the mantel to the left.</p><p>"Aye."</p><p>Harry tossed the Floo powder in and called out for Albus's. A moment later, he was met with a view of four legs and a faceful of Salazar the cat.</p><p>"Al! What—"</p><p>"Dad!" Albus, then Scorpius, dropped to their knees and peered into the flames. "The baby. The Healer says she looks perfect! We just got word from the—"</p><p>"It's a girl?" Harry interrupted.</p><p>Scorpius nodded excitedly. "Well, we should say, there's no penis detected on the magical scan. But yes." He frowned, his usually chipper face falling. He turned to Albus. "It's deeply unfortunate to refer to a vagina in the negative, as an absence. We need to find a different way to say that."</p><p>Albus nodded, then excitedly turned to Harry. "And she's so healthy! They can see the magical core!"</p><p>"I thought they couldn't see the magical core until later!" Harry's heart was beating wildly.</p><p>"You're ancient, Dad," Albus said. "They've made huge advancements."</p><p>Harry gave him a look. "You realise that the length of time from my experience with obstetrical magic is <i>exactly</i> the same as your age, so if my knowledge is 'old,' so too are—"</p><p>"Whatever," Al interrupted. "The paperwork is signed, and the baby is healthy. I don't even care if you call me old."</p><p>Harry couldn't contain his smile. "That's amazing. I'm so happy for you! And for the baby."</p><p>Albus nodded, smile matching Harry's. "We thought you'd want to know."</p><p>"Does this mean I can start buying baby things?"</p><p>"No!" they cried in unison. "No jinxing it!"</p><p>"Alright!" Harry said, laughing. "I'm not going to buy things until given the go-ahead."</p><p>"Babies don't really need much stuff, anyway," Scorpius said, with the air of a person who had read some literature on the topic. "Previous generations tended to go overboard with baby stuff."</p><p>Harry hummed, trying to keep amusement off his face. "Quite right."</p><p>"Babies don't need toys, you know," Albus added. "It's a capitalist scam."</p><p>"True enough," Harry admitted. "I distinctly remember you and your siblings ignoring toys in favor of a funnel."</p><p>"See?" Scorpius said, gesturing at Harry with delight. "We don't need to buy stuff."</p><p>"Only clothes, nappies," Harry said, unable to help himself, "cot, Flooster, bibs, blankets, milk replicating kit and bottles, a bathtub, that magical mucous-sucker thing, magic-dampening mattress…"</p><p>"Dad," Albus cut him off, "we can get whatever we really need after."</p><p>"Of course you can," Harry agreed, thinking of the entire bedroom that Draco had been steadily filling with baby items. When Harry had confronted him about it, Draco had testily replied that he wasn't buying anything for the baby <i>personally</i>, so none of it could possibly jinx the adoption. No clothes, no toys, not even any books or nursery decorations. Only <i>generic baby items</i>, Draco said. "They'll thank me," he said. Harry couldn't help but think that Draco was probably right, though he was adamantly not involved, not wanting to risk Albus's wrath.</p><p>"We need to go," Albus said, "Mum's told us to come over for breakfast."</p><p>"Say hi to Mum for me."</p><p>Albus nodded, distractedly. "We'll see you this weekend?"</p><p>Harry nodded. "Bye, love you!"</p><p>Albus was turning away and cutting off the connection as he said, "Love you, too" and Scorpius called, "Bye, Dad Two!"</p><p>Harry sat back on his heels, staring at the flames. A <i>granddaughter</i>!</p><p>The door to Harry's office flew open without a knock, and Harry, unthinking, drew his wand as he whirled on his knees towards the door.</p><p>Draco. "Your assistant was saying I needed to wait—"</p><p>"Indeed I was," Jorgen called apologetically.</p><p>"—But I explained that as your <i>husband</i>, I think I can be allowed free entry into your office."</p><p>Harry rolled his eyes. Draco was rubbing it on a little thick. "Yes, husband, hello. What can I do for you that couldn't wait until I get home later?"</p><p>Draco shut the door with a wave of his wand. "Did you hear about the baby?"</p><p>"I just got off with them," Harry said, gesturing towards the fire and standing with a groan. He looked at Draco—pink cheeks, sparkle in his grey eyes. "You bought something for her, didn't you?"</p><p>Draco mimed performing Silencio on himself, but his wide smile gave him away. "A girl, Harry! I never had a girl! I mean, of course, I only have one child, so I suppose that's only a 50% chance. But we have all these children and pseudo-children, and only <i>one </i>girl! Malfoys never have girls!"</p><p>Harry laughed, unable to help himself because he was also delighted. "You better not let the kids hear you, or they'll lecture us again about the gender binary."</p><p>Draco threw his head back and laughed. "I don't even care. I mean, obviously, they're right. The binary is a piece of devilry. But a baby girl! I could dance."</p><p>An otherworldly, ethereal tone sounded, and when Harry turned around; Wilhelm had pulled out a little saw and was playing it with a bow.</p><p>For a long moment, Harry thought Wilhelm was somehow poking fun at Draco. It was terrible music. But no—it looked like Wil was earnestly attempting to supply dancing music. The music, though, was absolutely unsuited to dancing, even if Draco had been serious.</p><p>Harry was about to open his mouth to ask Wilhelm to stop when Draco waved his wand, silencing the clock without a second thought, then started pacing the office excitedly. Behind him, Wilhelm's tiny wooden mouth opened and closed in shocked offense. Harry quickly cast <i>Finite</i> and mouthed, "Sorry!" He was going to have to have a talk with Draco about appropriate behavior where Wilhelm was concerned.</p><p>"I'm outraged that they won't tell us the names they're considering," Draco said, spinning on the ball of his expensive shoe and beginning another lap of the tiny office. "I have so many ideas, and to be honest, I don't trust a Potter with this decision. I love your children, but their names are <i>deeply</i> unfortunate."</p><p>"Hey!"</p><p>"Don't bother denying it. I quite like Amaryllis; what say you?"</p><p>Harry raised an eyebrow. "That's a no from me."</p><p>Draco waved a hand impatiently. "As I said, your taste has already proven inadequate."</p><p>Harry gaped. "Your son is called <i>Scorpius</i>."</p><p>"I have to agree with Harry, here," Wilhelm piped up, and Harry could only assume Wilhelm wanted to make sure Draco knew he was no longer silenced. "You name a kid Amaryllis and inevitably people call them Amar and from there, who knows? Amaretto? Amar, but pronounced real harsh—it's like your kid's called Hammer! What's next, Sickle?"</p><p>Draco sighed, gamely admitting Wilhelm into the conversation. "With Scorpius and Albus, that's not outside the realm of possibility."</p><p>Harry snorted. "They were just talking to me about capitalist baby conspiracies."</p><p>"That's not why I'm here, though," Draco announced. "Sorry, I got distracted. I wanted to talk to you about this legal action against Rump."</p><p>"About the ban on foreign magic?"</p><p>Draco nodded. "Well, specifically about the spell tracking. I had a call from Dennis Creevey. He's wondering if I'd be willing to argue the case in front of the Wiz."</p><p>"He wants you to argue the case for the Magical Civil Liberties Union?"</p><p>"Yes. He thinks that with my notoriety and their organisation, we could make quite a splash in the news. What do you think?"</p><p>Harry leaned back on his desk, taken aback. Since when did Draco ask Harry's opinion on career moves? What was he even supposed to say to that? He decided to fall back on his tried and true parenting technique of just echoing back whatever was said to him. "Er, sounds like you're considering it. What do <i>you</i> think?"</p><p>Draco gave him a look. "Don't try your supportive-parent tactics on me. I'm not Lily. I actually want to know what you think."</p><p>"Who says that's a parenting tactic!" Harry cried, disturbed that someone could see through it. His kids never did. They were always looking for an excuse to keep talking, to organise and clarify their own thoughts. They never wanted Harry's opinion; they wanted someone to help them realise their own.</p><p>"Please. I would like to hear your thoughts. If you're incapable of providing them, I can call Hermione—"</p><p>"No!" Harry said. "Sorry. Well, I don't know. It would certainly put your opposition to Rump at the forefront of people's minds, which seems like it's probably a good thing when the election comes?"</p><p>Draco sighed. "Yes, I suppose. I'm wondering if it will make people think I'm too eager. Like a terrier. A solicitor terrier."</p><p>Harry frowned. "I don't think anyone in the history of the world has ever thought to compare you to a terrier."</p><p>"Well I'd hate to start now!" Draco said, a hand gesturing. "I'm just wondering if there's some downside I'm not seeing."</p><p>"I think people will be focused on the fact that you're arguing for civil liberties. I don't think you need to make it any bigger than that. If you want, maybe Dennis can make some kind of public show of asking you, so it seems like you're responding to the call rather than eagerly jumping at the chance?"</p><p>Draco cocked his head, staring at Harry for a long moment in which Harry was almost convinced he'd said something silly. "That's it!" Draco grinned. "Paint myself as reluctantly tapped for duty!"</p><p>"<i>Are</i> you reluctant?" Harry asked.</p><p>"Hell no," Draco said. "I can't wait to wipe the floor with Rump's bigoted arse. But we're playing the long game, so I can hold back if that's what's necessary for the cause."</p><p>Harry laughed, then sobered. "I know the eventual election is the most important thing, but this law is harming people <i>right now</i>. So this is just as important, really."</p><p>Draco's face turned serious. "That's true. But someone else could argue the case."</p><p>"Would they be as good as you?" Harry asked.</p><p>Draco scoffed. "Of course not."</p><p>"So it's settled, then," Harry said. "Dennis can make some kind of statement about how they're looking to hire the best solicitor but they aren't sure they will be able to commit, and then a couple of days later he can announce that you're on the case. If we talk to our contacts at the <i>Prophet</i>, we can probably even influence the way they report on it. To make it seem like it's you against Rump, you know? And then you'll win the case, and when the election comes, everyone will be like, oh, we already know this story—Draco Malfoy beats Norris Rump."</p><p>For a moment, Draco stared at him with a sort of twinkle in his eye. Then, abruptly, he stood, strode forward, grasped Harry's face between two hands, and kissed him briefly on the lips.</p><p>"Excellent!" Draco proclaimed, his hands and lips gone from Harry's face before he had even clocked what was happening, and Draco turned and was out the door. "See you tonight!"</p><p>Harry stood, gaping, in the office, wondering vaguely what had just happened. A kiss?! Completely out of the blue? With no one around to see? Granted, it wasn't a very sensual kiss. But still, a kiss nonetheless. It wasn't like Draco went around kissing people like that. Harry would know.</p><p>After a minute, Harry turned around, trying to figure out how to go on with the rest of his day. He caught Wilhelm's eye and reached to put him back on his clock.</p><p>"Yer husband sure has the hots for ye, lad!"</p><p>Harry scrubbed his face with his hand and groaned. Surely Wilhelm wasn't right about this. Right?</p><p>
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</p><p>The house was so loud that Harry had cast a charm at his ears to lower the decibel level. He'd learned that charm when he and Ron went to a RATM concert in 1999, but here he was using it in his own home.</p><p>He and Lily were in the kitchen attempting to make the structural pieces of gingerbread houses, which was, clearly, the worst part of making gingerbread houses. They were using charms to shape the dough, but getting it to cook properly was still a challenge. Lily had flour on her nose and was singing carols, though, so really, Harry didn't mind the job. He had thought that his children would grow out of things like gingerbread houses, but it turned out that once a tradition was established in the Potter family, it would live on until the end of time—even if there were no small children present.</p><p>That was the other thing: Harry kept thinking about how there would be a baby at Christmas next year. He wasn't allowed to discuss it, of course, because Albus and Scorpius were so adamant about not jinxing the adoption. Still, the thought was putting an extra bounce in his step. Harry <i>loved </i>babies.</p><p>Even with the charm in place, he could hear James arguing with Teddy about what Christmas film to watch, and Albus and Scorpius telling Draco to stop dropping baby name hints, and Nico gamely singing along (loudly—the man was, he told Harry, a classically trained tenor) with Lily's a capella version of "Last Christmas" (which had to be the worst Christmas song to sing with a current lover).</p><p>Every once in a while, Lorraine flitted by, charming twinkly lights along the ceiling, doorways, and furniture.</p><p>Eventually, as the gingerbread walls and roofs were nearly finished, Draco joined them in the kitchen.</p><p>"I'm sorry about all this noise," Harry apologised, wincing. "You're probably used to a much quieter Christmas."</p><p>He couldn't read the look on Draco's face. "It's fine. I like having all the kids here."</p><p>Harry nodded. "Thanks. Just, I know it's a lot. I don't want you to feel like the Potter family Christmas celebrations are taking over to the point where you can't do your usual Christmas stuff."</p><p>Draco lifted a shoulder. "Scorpius and I don't have a bunch of mandatory Yuletide events, like it seems you do."</p><p>"Really?" Harry said, realising too late that his tone sounded a bit pitying.</p><p>"After Astoria and I divorced, Scorpius either spent Christmas with the Greengrasses, or he and I went to the Manor to see my parents. I suppose I was a bit jaded by all of it."</p><p>"Good thing you got Scorpius as a son, then," Harry said, smiling. "He's the least jaded person I know. It's impossible to be jaded if you're in the same room as him."</p><p>Draco laughed, looking over his shoulder for his son. Scorpius was sitting in front of the fireplace, charming fairy lights into James's and Albus's hair. "Quite right. He always made it festive, even when I didn't have…" He gestured at the mess of flour and sugar covering the kitchen, "structured Christmas activities for us."</p><p>"Can you grab some bowls for the sweets?" Harry pointed to a corner of the counter that looked like a Honeyduke's volcano had exploded. It was, perhaps, a mistake to send James and Teddy to buy sweets for the gingerbread houses.</p><p>Nico stood from his stool and grabbed Lily's hand, pulling her in to dance—the two of them waltzed around the room, laughing as they sang <i>Once bitten and twice shy-y-y, I keep my distance, but still you catch my eye!<br/>
</i><br/>
Draco elbowed Harry as he passed by with a bowl of Pepper Imps. "I told you," he whispered, "that you weren't giving Nico a chance."</p><p>At that very moment, Nico operatically jumped octaves, sending Lily into a fit of giggles. Harry skeptically raised his eyebrow at Draco.</p><p>Draco snorted.</p><p>Harry had been divorced for a long time—over twenty years now—and he didn't miss marriage. He was happy alone, for the most part. But this, having another adult around to make eye contact with, sharing a generation-removed moment of understanding, he'd always missed. When a child (of any age) said something preposterous, it was torture to be the only adult around, to have no one with whom to catch eyes. Harry often found himself texting Ron, Hermione, or Ginny—needing to share these moments, even though it wasn't the same when you had to relay it.</p><p>Draco had fallen into this role seamlessly. They always knew what the other was thinking, and a split second of eye contact was all that was needed to assure Harry that <i>yes</i>, this was ridiculous, and <i>yes, </i>his sense of humor was intact. Yes, it was hilarious that Teddy was just now discovering books of queer theory that Harry had been gifted by Hermione over three decades ago and yet if you listened to Teddy it was like he'd made a novel discovery, like his generation had a monopoly on insight. Yes, Nico was pretentious in a very hipster manner, even as he seemed well-matched to Lily. Yes, James loudly discussing the intricacies of his "castle aesthetic" was outrageous, if simultaneously endearing. Yes, Scorpius's anxiety about the baby was completely detached from reality and yet also understandable.</p><p>Catching Draco's eyes during those moments made Harry feel…something. Known? Not alone? Something.</p><p>"What I really want for the dining area," James said, joining them at the large table and popping an Every Flavor Bean in his mouth, "is one of those lighting fixtures that looks kind of menacing, like it could fall from the ceiling and impale someone or trap them in its bars. Do you know the kind I mean? I feel like that would be wicked."</p><p>"You should Pinterest 'Arthurian decor,'" Scorpius said, joining them. "I bet you'd find some good stuff." Scorpius didn't appear to be joking.</p><p>"Is that how Albus decorates your place?" James asked. "He Pinterests 'goth decor'?"</p><p>"Our place is not <i>goth</i>." Albus pulled out the chair next to Scorpius.</p><p>"You have an enormous bewitched crow statue!" Lily exclaimed, tugging Nico to the table. "We're ready to decorate. Dad, start the tunes."</p><p>"Don't you dare," Albus hissed, pointing his finger at Lily and then at Harry. "Don't do—"</p><p>Harry grinned and waved his wand. NSYNC's "Home for Christmas" wafted through the house.</p><p>Al groaned, dropping his head into his hands. Scorpius, rubbing Albus's back consolingly, tried unsuccessfully to stop a smile.</p><p>"What?" Nico asked, looking between them.</p><p>"Albus realised he was gay because of Dad's old NSYNC Christmas CD," James said easily, then started singing along. "<i>When I need a friend or a helping hand</i>," at this point James made a wanking gesture, "<i>I know that you will all be there</i>."</p><p>Albus waved his wand to silence the music, but Teddy, James, <i>and </i>Lily all blocked his spell.</p><p>"Wait for it, wait for it!" Teddy said, jumping to his feet and closing his eyes—hands out expectantly. <i>When you see that shining star. </i>"CHEEKY MODULATION!" Teddy pumped his fist exuberantly.</p><p>"I hate every single one of you," Albus groaned, head still in his hands. "I was <i>ten</i>. And it isn't even true!"</p><p>"Okay, okay," Lily said, getting her laughter under control. "We'll stop taking the piss, Al."</p><p>The music stayed on, but everyone seemed to reach a temporary truce in which they would ignore it. Harry, looking pointedly at his gingerbread, grinned.</p><p>Albus, apparently eager to change the subject, waved his wand to hold the pieces of his gingerbread house together, picked up a tube of icing, and said, "Dad, Draco, I've been meaning to ask you. What are you doing about the environmental potions thing?"</p><p>Harry frowned, licking some chocolate off his finger. "What <i>can </i>we do, Al? It's not like we're in power. I'm just the head of DMLE."</p><p>Rump had recently removed all regulation on disposal of potions, which meant that there was now a burgeoning issue of magical contamination in the environment—dangerous for magical people, downright lethal to Muggles. Potions companies claimed they were being responsible about disposal, but some undercover journalists had discovered that they were merely transporting the potions waste to random places before dumping. It was, of course, illegal to Vanish potions, which was why disposal was such an issue and required regulation. Ideally, spoiled or excess potions would be collected and brought to the Unspeakables to be broken down into their constituent elements. Rump claimed this was too expensive for the companies that owned the potions and said they would be able to pursue responsible disposal without governmental intervention. This was, patently, hogwash.</p><p>"This is exactly the problem, Dad!" Albus snapped. "Everyone in your generation thinks they're incapable of solving the problem. You two are both influential people, you know that. Don't pretend you don't have power."</p><p>James, ever the shit-stirrer, propped his chin in his hand and looked raptly between Harry and Albus as he sucked on a candy cane.</p><p>Harry didn't want to get in a fight with Albus, and tried to think of what he could say. To his surprise, Draco spoke up.</p><p>"We're all ears if you have a suggestion, Al." Draco crossed his legs. "It's a matter of how to prioritise competing demands. I'm currently gearing up to argue this case against Rump's spell tracking in the Wiz, and your father is trying to stop the entire nation's law enforcement from enforcing Rump's anti-foreign magic policy without getting sacked. What is your suggestion as to where our efforts could be of most use?"</p><p>"Maybe <i>we</i> could do some public awareness campaigns, Al," Scorpius offered. "We're pretty famous in our own right, if we choose to use it."</p><p>Albus snorted. "Like it or not."</p><p>"I'll help!" Nico said, leaning forward. "We could do a wicked social media campaign. So many ways it could go. Scare tactics? Show images of poisoned Muggles? Some kind of image of the earth being overtaken by toxicity? Babies dying from their arrogance?"</p><p>Lily leaned back in her chair and gaped at him. "Erm, excuse me. Are you alright, there? Can we <i>not</i> propose inflicting trauma on the entire populace?" She inclined her head meaningfully towards Albus and Scorpius and Nico grimaced, realising his gaffe.</p><p>Scorpius attempted a smile. "Nico, I'm sure we can find a way for you to help!"</p><p>Harry decided to leave them to their "epic" social media campaign planning and gingerbread house decorating and made his way back to the kitchen to clean up the mess he and Lily had made earlier. Draco, who'd offered to fetch a pitcher of water for everyone, followed.</p><p>"Does Albus routinely make you feel like you've committed a complete betrayal of the left?" Harry whispered. "Or is that just me."</p><p>"Well," Draco said, reaching for a pitcher and casting Aguamenti, "I don't align myself with the left in terms of my identity quite as much as you do. So I imagine yes, that's just you. The most strategic action we can take to protect the environment is to get elected."</p><p>Harry huffed a laugh, running a hand through his hair. "Right. Funny how you and Albus, two Slytherins, can end up with such different approaches."</p><p>"We're not a <i>monolith</i>, Potter," Draco drawled, his mouth curling up in amusement.</p><p>Harry reached behind Draco to Vanish flour from the counter, but when he tried to pull away, he was stuck. "What the…"</p><p>"Get off me," Draco grumbled.</p><p>"I'm not! I—"</p><p>Harry yanked, trying to pull away, when the children's stifled laughter reached his ears. He turned towards them. "What did you do."</p><p>James shrugged, a huge grin on his face. Harry would blame himself for poor parenting, if James hadn't had the Fred-and-George genes in his blood. "Look up."</p><p>"Oh, good grief," Draco muttered as Harry's eyes landed on the mistletoe hanging over their heads.</p><p>"Is this a Wheezes?!" Harry gasped. "You are all dead."</p><p>"What are you going to do, Dad, <i>Expelliarmus</i> us?" Albus asked.</p><p>At that, Draco helpfully burst out laughing.</p><p>"Come on, Dad, kiss your husband!" Lily goaded. The entire table of traitors started chanting "kiss him, kiss him" and Harry rolled his eyes, turned to face a still-laughing Draco, and pressed a kiss to his lips.</p><p>Draco stopped laughing and made to move away, but they were still stuck. Upon realising this, the kids started hooting and whistling.</p><p>"What?!" Harry asked as Draco frowned at the offending parasitic plant. "This isn't ethical! You can't force people to kiss."</p><p>"Don't worry, Dad," Lily said seriously. "Aunt Hermione yelled at George for his first version. This one only activates if both parties, or well really I suppose it could be used with a triad, so if <i>all</i> of the parties <i>want </i>to kiss each other. So it's at least, like, <i>mostly</i> ethical."</p><p>Draco looked up, either to scowl at the mistletoe or to seek strength from a higher power, then looked back down, took Harry's face in his hands, and kissed him.</p><p>Against Harry's expectations, they'd kissed so many times by now. But this felt different, somehow. Softer. They weren't drunk. There weren't any cameras. It wasn't a raunchy kiss, but there was something so <i>fond </i>about it that Harry, Draco's cold fingers on his face, felt shaken.</p><p>When Draco moved away, Harry found himself leaning forward to press a final kiss to Draco's smiling mouth.</p><p>"There," Draco said, turning to the kids. "Happy?"</p><p>The kids laughed, and in a moment, they all moved on, laughing at a story Teddy launched into about mispronouncing the word Cthulhu at a sci-fi meetup and the scorn he encountered therein. Harry, though, hadn't budged from his spot in the kitchen, and it took him a few minutes to get his brain back into Dad Mode.</p><p>
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</p><p>That night, Harry, exhausted, crawled into bed next to Draco. "I love them all so much, but I cannot express how much they wear me out."</p><p>Draco snorted inelegantly, rubbing his eyes. "Yes. I imagine that won't get any better once the baby comes."</p><p>Harry, unable to help himself, grinned. He'd been away from infant-toddler hell for long enough to have repressed how hard it was. All he could think about was sweet babies sleeping on his chest, how their little lips made sucking motions in their sleep, how they made adorably gurgly coos. He had a vague memory of once, when his kids were 4, 2, and newborn, being so sleep deprived that he walked into a wall—but he's done a good job of mostly forgetting about that part.</p><p>"That's probably true. Don't let them hear you saying that, though." He paused, frowned. "Those two really seem like they can't believe it will actually happen."</p><p>Draco sighed. "Poor Scorpius. Poor Albus. They've really been through it."</p><p>"Wombs," Harry mused, failing to elaborate.</p><p>Draco narrowed his eyes. "<i>Wombs</i>?"</p><p>"It's just, you know. Wombs. You'd think we could magic them or something."</p><p>Draco leaned his head back. "I read a story about that once. It was somewhat prurient, but really a fantastic discourse on gender and bodies."</p><p>"Wait, what?" Harry asked, tired and thinking he'd missed something. "They <i>can</i> magic someone a womb?"</p><p>"No! It was fiction!"</p><p>Harry turned towards Draco, propping his head up on his hand. "Let me get this straight. You read smutty novels?"</p><p>Draco raised an eyebrow. "Do you <i>not</i>?"</p><p>Harry didn't find much time for pleasure reading, honestly. Some <i>Quidditch Weekly </i>here and there. He followed a couple authors; he read anything Luna published, which covered a wide swath of genres, to be sure. "No! What are they like? So they had someone get a magic womb and then get pregnant? Did they have a vagina to begin with, or…"</p><p>"I'm not recounting the plot of that novel."</p><p>"Oh come on! You're no fun."</p><p>Draco rolled his eyes. "Lorraine!" The elf appeared.</p><p>Harry instinctively pulled the duvet toward his chin.</p><p>"Please bring Harry my copy of <i>Traitor in the Portal.</i>" Lorraine Disapparated.</p><p>Harry's mouth tugged into an amused grin. "Is the womb a <i>portal</i>?"</p><p>"What? No!" Draco seemed honestly offended by this. "They're in an inter-dimensional vessel." Then he whispered under his breath, shaking his head with derision, "Is the womb a portal."</p><p>"Oh okay, well if they're in an inter-dimensional vessel, that makes sense then." A paperback landed on Harry's stomach.</p><p>"Shut up," Draco instructed, but he was grinning. "I'll take that back then." He reached for the book.</p><p>"No!" Harry said, grabbing onto it for dear life. "I want to read it." He looked down at the cover. There was something that looked like a spaceship in the background, and two ambiguously gendered and generously muscled people in the foreground wearing spacesuits. "Oh, I am so reading this."</p><p>Draco gave him a strange look, like he was reconsidering the wisdom of giving Harry this book. "You're going to be absolutely insufferable reading this, aren't you? Every time something remotely unusual happens, you're going to scoff and complain."</p><p>"I am not!" Harry held the book in his far hand and stretched it out of Draco's reach. "I have a very good imagination."</p><p>Draco frowned. "No, you're going to get super worked up by the sex scenes, aren't you? I think maybe you need to go back to your room to read this, Potter."</p><p>Harry burst out in laughter. "I am not! What do I look like, a randy teenager?"</p><p>Draco sighed and pulled out a book he was reading, propping it on his knees.</p><p>He knew Draco was joking about the guest room, but it caused a flare of anxiety behind Harry's sternum. It was silly—he knew that—but he couldn't stop thinking about how much he hated the guest room. How much it made him feel like he wasn't actually living in this house. Like he was homeless, all his previous bedrooms (which, of course, included a cupboard and a musty tent in the Forest of Dean) gone, only to be replaced with a poshly decorated, sterile room.</p><p>Impulsively, Harry blurted it. "I hate the guest room."</p><p>Draco's brow crinkled and he turned to look at Harry. "Which one?"</p><p>"<i>Mine</i>! It makes me feel like I'm living in a hotel."</p><p>"You hate your room?" Draco's face was twisted in something like concern now. Or maybe consternation. "Why didn't you tell me?"</p><p>"I literally just told you."</p><p>"Well, okay. What's wrong with it? Do you not like the colour? We can redecorate. Do you want to put out some of your own things? I can put up some shelves if you need to display your Order of Merlin in a prominent place."</p><p>Harry elbowed him. "It's not that. I don't know. Can't I just stay here?"</p><p>At this, Draco put his book back on the table and turned to fully look at Harry. It had been a very long time since Harry had seen him look so uncertain. "Well, sure? I'm surprised you'd want to."</p><p>Harry groaned, shaking his head. "No, never mind, I'm not going to invade your space any more than I already have. Maybe shelves would be good. I was just thinking about how annoying it is to have to keep changing where my stuff is whenever the kids come, too, but forget it."</p><p>Harry made to turn away, but Draco grabbed Harry's wrist. "Seriously, it's fine. It's probably smart. Only a matter of time until one of the kids pops in when we're not around and accidentally stumbles upon the fact that you live upstairs."</p><p>There was something in Draco's face—something anxious—that made Harry pause. "Are you sure? Your room is way better."</p><p>"<i>Our </i>room. Yes, it's fine. Now read your book. Jasper Anderson is going to enchant you."</p><p>Harry laughed as he opened the book. The room and the bed were warm and homey, he had a book to annoy Draco with, all his kids were under the roof. It was Christmastime, after all, and all the worries about Rump and the world and the environment and the difficult decisions about what Harry could do as head of DMLE could wait. He flipped to Chapter One.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><i>Jasper Anderson stared at the mission assignment card—his falsified classification had worked.<br/>
</i><br/>
<i>The intergalactic empire had decided that crews on interplanetary missions must be incompats, or people who would not be sexually attracted to each other. The empire's official rationale was that they didn't want crew members distracted from their work by romance or lust, but everyone knew they were also attempting to avoid the possibility of space babies. Children born in space received universal citizenship, which was highly coveted by prospective parents and highly avoided by the bureaucracy.<br/>
</i><br/>
<i>The problem was, Jasper didn't think there was a group of people to whom he </i>wasn't <i>potentially sexually attracted. To the empire, this would mean that he was disqualified from all missions. They couldn't stick him with a bunch of people attracted to women or a bunch of people attracted to men. But Jasper was determined to be a traveler, and he'd paid good money to fool the sexuality determinator. And somehow…it had worked.<br/>
</i><br/>
<i>And now he was heading into a years-long mission with none other than Steff Houghton. Steff. Of all people!</i><br/>
<br/>
</p>
</blockquote>Harry smiled at the book and snuck a look at Draco, who seemed to be waiting for his reaction. "So which one do you have the hots for? Jasper or Steff?"<p>Draco's mouth twitched in amusement. "Both, obviously."</p><p>
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</p><p>It wasn't until the next morning that Harry realised he'd made a mistake.</p><p>Maybe it was the cold weather. He'd woken in bed with Draco dozens of times by now—the entire time James had been living with them—and he and Draco had always stayed firmly on their own sides of the bed. But today, he woke with Draco's arm draped over his waist, Draco's chest pressed into his back.</p><p>It wasn't the touch he minded; Draco felt warm and Harry always appreciated the cosy press of another person. (He was pretty sure he'd smothered Ginny while sleeping in the same bed as her. She'd diagnosed him as being "touch starved," which, sure, but it wasn't like Harry could particularly <i>help </i>it.)</p><p>It was how much he <i>liked</i> it. How much he wanted it. And the fact that he knew it wasn't real. Draco had been very clear about their arrangement, and he didn't seem bothered by any of it—but he hadn't really wanted Harry in his bed, had he? He had hesitated when Harry mentioned it. And now, in his sleep, he was cuddling. Everyone knew that cuddling was only good if the other person wanted to cuddle you back. No one wanted a nighttime cuddling accident caused by gravitation towards warmth.</p><p>He wanted Draco to mean it.</p><p>As he was reeling from this, the door to the bedroom burst open and Draco's body went rigid as he was awoken.</p><p>"I HEARD THE BELLS ON CHRISTMAS DAY!" James sang, Teddy harmonising from down the hall.</p><p>"What the fucking fuck," Draco whispered.</p><p>"Get up, Dad!" That was Lily.</p><p>"It's the fucking 24th!" Draco protested, turning his head into his pillow behind Harry's head.</p><p>"Yes but we'll be at Mum's tomorrow, so today is Christmas morning number one," Lily explained.</p><p>"Dad!" James was coming closer now. "Should we—for old time's sake?"</p><p>"No!" Harry blinked his eyes open and pushed himself upright. "I'm awake! I'm—"</p><p>Too late. James and Lily cannonballed onto the bed as Albus and Scorpius called from the corridor, "We're making coffee! Come <i>on</i>!"</p><p>Harry made eye contact with Draco, who was laughing, a look of disbelief on his face, his hair rumpled. He raised his eyebrow at Harry.</p><p>Harry shrugged. "Happy Christmas."</p><p>Draco smiled.</p><p>"Dad! Stop making eyes at your husband and come on!"</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Spring 2037</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I had so much fun writing this chapter during some tumultuous real-world political feels. I wrote Harry's meeting with Rump the day after the insurrection at the US Capitol, but as I post now, the US has a new president. My political hopes are grounded in the reality of the continued struggle, but it feels good to be posting this from a world in which one of the Rumps has been kicked out.</p><p>Thanks, as always, to <b>yrfrndfrnkly</b> for betaing, and a HUGE debt of gratitude to <b>crazybutgood</b> for sensitivity checking details about Indian dress and culture. Also a note that Harry and Draco's grandchild was named via reader poll!</p><p>Get excited: this chapter has FOOTNOTES, and it's a whirlwind.</p><p>Hope everyone is staying healthy. I'm hunkered down at home, still! Starting to think I might not know how to go back to the world when the pandemic eventually ends...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Draco!" Harry shouted as soon as he stepped out of the Floo. He was furious, indignant, worried. He needed to shout without fear of repercussions.</p><p>He felt like he'd often felt as a teenager—angry at everyone and disappointed at the world. </p><p>"DRACO!"</p><p>"We're in here!" Draco's voice was sharper than usual—his solicitor voice. The voice he used when scaring the pants off his underlings, not the voice he used at home.</p><p>Harry stormed into the sitting room, where he saw Ron and Hermione, Albus and Scorpius, Luna, Head Unspeakable What's-Her-Name, Penny Clearwater, Dennis Creevey, and Draco's assistant Glynn. </p><p>Harry came to a halt, taking in all the people and trying to recalibrate his behaviour from Cursing Angry Harry to something a bit more in line with Saviour Harry.</p><p>The Floo roared behind him and Lily emerged, shouting, "Dad! What the fuck!" </p><p>He turned and held out his arm to give his daughter a squeeze. If there was any consolation, it was that they could all be righteously angry together.</p><p>"Is it true?" she asked, leaning into him.</p><p>"That depends what you've heard," Harry sighed. "That Rump outlawed 'non-Western robes' in the Ministry and is trying to expand the rule to all magical places? True. That he used actual racial epithets in his speech announcing it? True. That his underlings are telling the press that Rump has his sights set on outlawing Muggle clothing next? True."</p><p>There was a knock at the front door followed by the sound of Lorraine Apparating to answer it. Lavender and Parvati strode in a moment later. </p><p>"Harry," Parvati groaned, "what is up with these goras?!"</p><p>Harry huffed a laugh and shook his head. </p><p>"I say we go buy a bunch of saris right now," Lavender said, as angry as Harry had seen her in a long time, her grey curls bouncing with her indignance. "From the magical district in Mumbai, of course. They can't—"</p><p>Harry's head spun as everyone attempted to talk over one another. Lavender was pulled away and he wandered towards Albus, who had slumped despondently onto the corner of a sofa by the window, and sat next to him. Harry and Albus could always be counted on to lapse into silence when confronted with nonsense.</p><p>It was Hermione who eventually quieted the group, using a Charm that sounded like an air horn. Everyone stopped talking, looking to her with eagerness. As much as these people were all independent personalities, they also loved the structure of a clear leader.</p><p>Sometimes Harry forgot that his best friend was the British delegate to the International Confederation of Wizards, on her way to becoming Supreme Mugwump, as well as the General Secretary of the Lab-Mags. She was like that, though—she could go from helping him clean dust bunnies out of his empty house to solving an international incident via Floo in less than ten seconds.</p><p>"First things first," Hermione said, leaning back to perch on one of Draco's more expensive-looking pieces of furniture, "who are the most vulnerable groups to this policy change? Who will be harmed; whom do we need to help? Protect the vulnerable first, then we can debate how to deal with it on the policy level."</p><p>Harry breathed a sigh of relief and cast a charm to improve his attentiveness—one he learned his first year of Auror training and had consistently used in every meeting since. Well, in every meeting he cared about. In the pointless meetings, he allowed his mind to wander.</p><p>This motley group was an improvement over Harry's usual Ministry meetings, too. They were much more engaging. They weren't all career bureaucrats; many ages and viewpoints were represented. Before long, they'd made a list of the most vulnerable groups (magical refugees, immigrants, people with non-Western cultural ties, poor Muggleborns, people with housing insecurity, Squibs, non-English-speaking magical people, werewolves and other beings with "creature" status) and strategies for outreach to each group. Harry's input wasn't needed for any of this—it didn't involve magical law enforcement or require his Saviour persona. He listened raptly, though, at one point wrapping an arm around Albus's shoulder and taking comfort in the close press of his son.</p><p>"What about Glamours?" Luna ventured, apropos of nothing. She was lying on her back on the floor, her stocking feet up on a sofa next to Dennis, who looked like he wasn't sure where to put his hands. </p><p>Everyone sort of slowly turned to look at her, tilting their heads to accommodate her upside-downness.</p><p>"What about them?" Hermione asked.</p><p>"Well, we are magic, after all." She dreamily waved a hand in the air. "Glamours could change the appearance of our vestments. For that matter, so could Transfiguration. Are they planning to use the Thief's Downfall or a similar incantation to remove all magical enchantments to our appearance? If one is using a Glamour on their attire, does this law refer to only the current appearance, all magic considered, or to the underlying reality absent enchantment? And of course, who is to say which is <i>real</i>?"</p><p>There was a long second as everyone in the room caught up with Luna's thought process.</p><p>"That's a good question," Draco said. "I wonder if we could use that lack of clarity as a challenge to delay the law, arguing that they need to add in those contingencies. I'd do it, but I don't think I'm the best person. I don't want to be on record as trying to make this law 'better,' since I oppose it entirely."</p><p>"What about Thompson?" Dennis asked, managing to look past Luna's feet and towards Draco. "Isn't he a <a id="return1" name="return1"></a>WizeASs<sup>[<a href="#note1">1</a>]</sup>? He's a stickler for rules and doesn't love Rump. If we asked him to clarify these points, he'd probably raise it through the ranks."</p><p>Draco grinned and pointed a finger at Dennis. "Thompson! Right you are." He waved his wand, casting what Harry knew to be a Reminder Charm. "I'll do that."</p><p>When Draco cast the Charm, his assistant Glynn jumped a bit—he'd probably just been notified of a new task added to Draco's never-ending to-do list.</p><p>"But what about when the law goes through, assuming that won't stop it forever?" Lily asked. She looked impatient, which was common enough for her. She'd never done much to challenge stereotypes about redheads; Harry loved her for it. "Dad, you're not <i>actually</i> going to arrest people who wear non-Western robes! You couldn't! Right? Dad?"</p><p>Harry sighed, adjusting his position on the sofa. "I certainly don't want to! But my position as head of DMLE is a bit strange, because <i>I'm</i> never on patrol. I'm in charge of the people who would be making the arrests, not one of the feet on the ground, as it were. I don't know. What can the DMLE do? This isn't like the non-Western magic where we can overwhelm the Taboo, making it arguably impossible to enforce Rump's bigotry."</p><p>"Why not?" Albus said, speaking up for the first time since Harry had arrived. "Why can't we—people with privilege who won't really be harmed in any material way—just keep showing up in non-Western robes?"</p><p>"Because what good does getting thrown into a Ministry holding cell do?" Harry asked, but he already basically agreed with Albus—he was going through the motions of the discussion now.</p><p>"Because they don't have unlimited holding cells," Albus said.</p><p>"Because it would be embarrassing for them to have to lock up a bunch of well-known, upstanding citizens," Scorpius added, coming to sit on the arm of the sofa on Albus's other side. </p><p>Harry slumped forward, resting his chin in his hands. "Is this the moment?" There were over a dozen people here, including Hermione and Ron, but he realised he was looking only at Draco.</p><p>"What do you mean, Harry?" someone asked.</p><p>Draco's mouth twisted in thought. "Might be. Depends if you're ready to be unemployed."</p><p>"What are we discussing, exactly?" Hermione asked, her tone reminding him eerily of Professor McGonagall.</p><p>"Supposing that, on the first day this law is in effect, the head of the DMLE goes to work in non-Western attire?" Harry asked, leaning back, his shoulder bumping Albus's. </p><p>Scorpius, delighted, gasped audibly. "Think of the headlines!" His smile <i>shone.</i></p><p>"He'd <i>have</i> to sack you," Hermione said, her face considering. "He hasn't wanted to before now, because there'd be an uproar and you haven't done anything to justify it in the public eye. But if you did that, he'd have to."</p><p>Harry nodded. He took a quick look around the room, double-checking there was no one here he didn't trust. "Honestly, I've known for at least a year that I'm going to get sacked at some point. I don't want to work for Rump at all, of course. But there's some benefit to knowing that <i>I'm</i> the one in charge of DMLE—because I try to mitigate the negative effects of his policies. So the question is, when does the political advantage of my getting sacked in a blaze of glory outweigh the advantages of having me in the role?"</p><p>Draco walked around the sofa, standing behind Harry, and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. Harry wondered if it was for show, a performance of what a loving husband would do.</p><p>"Who would be likely to take your place?" Penny asked. She was the type of Ravenclaw who was always jumping to the next corollary.</p><p>"It's appointed by Rump," Harry sighed. "Historically, almost always the Head Auror. That's Persephone Diggle. She's a good Auror. I don't think she'd be…erm…." He trailed off, unsure how to say it diplomatically.</p><p>"She wouldn't be you," Hermione said simply.</p><p>"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "I don't think so. I don't think she likes Rump, but I think she'd do whatever he said, because that's her job."</p><p>Draco squeezed Harry's shoulder. "Harry is the best card in our hand. We want to make sure we play it strategically. Thoughts?"</p><p>
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</p><p>"I feel like I've run a marathon," Harry said later, after everyone had left and Lorraine served chicken shawarma bowls (rice for Harry, cauliflower 'rice' for Draco).</p><p>Draco opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. "I don't even know what to say."</p><p>"Draco Malfoy is speechless," Harry said, a grin sneaking onto his face despite his foul mood. "Well there's a first. Should I call Rita Skeeter, get this documented?"</p><p>Draco rolled his eyes before continuing. "There's nothing one <i>can </i>say, really. None of the usual twaddle fits."</p><p>"True," Harry said. "It's just—I've <i>known</i> that Rump is an arsehole. He's always <i>been</i> an arsehole. There's never been a time when I <i>didn't</i> think he was the worst possible human, and yet he somehow continuously proves himself to be even worse than I'd already thought."</p><p>"It boggles the mind," Draco agreed.</p><p>"I can't believe we need to deal with this shite for almost three more years." Harry groaned. "I wish we could just announce your bid already."</p><p>A crease appeared between Draco's eyes. For a moment, it looked like he wasn't going to say anything, but then he straightened his shoulders and said, "By 'this shite', am I to take it that you mean all of it—your living situation, hating the guest room, being here with me during Rump's tenure? Because I would hope that if something is bothering you, you'd have the decency to tell me so we could make it right. I take no pleasure in ruining your life for a decade, despite what my younger self would've had to say on the matter."</p><p>Harry blinked. "What? No! I meant Rump. Rump is the thing I can't believe we need to live with, not you. This—" he waved a hand, encompassing the house, "is all fine."</p><p>Draco looked down. "Sorry, I—"</p><p>"No, it's—"</p><p>Fuck, this was awkward. </p><p>"That's enough of that," Draco said. "We don't need to awkwardly apologise at each other. Quite out of character."</p><p>Relieved, Harry smiled. "True. The only reason this whole thing works is because we antagonise each other, right?"</p><p>Draco laughed. "Right."</p><p>But Harry frowned, because that wasn't really true anymore, was it? Though he certainly did make fun of Draco's hair care products on a regular basis, so at least there was that.</p><p>
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</p><p>Harry could not remember the last time he'd felt so awkward. He knew he looked great, and the clothes were objectively lovely, but causing an incident of national import through his clothing was not Harry's idea of a good time.</p><p>He wore a red embroidered kurta and matching churidar. Parvati and Lavender had dressed him (with Draco's help), and Parvati had calmed Harry's reservations about wearing traditional Indian clothes—he didn't feel <i>Indian enough </i>to wear them. He didn't truthfully know much about his Indian heritage or culture. As far as he knew, only one of his grandparents was Indian, and he worried that he'd be seen as appropriating the culture for political gain, especially because of his extensive privilege in the wizarding world.</p><p>Parvati had told him that this was irrelevant, since he was doing it to <i>help</i> oppressed people, and because there's "no rule that you must be 100% Indian to embrace the culture, Harry."</p><p>He still felt awkward as he stared at the Floo, gathering his wits for the firestorm that would follow his appearance on the other side.</p><p>"Harry," Draco called, and Harry turned to see Draco leaning against the archway into the vestibule. He was half-asleep, pulling his black flowery dressing gown around himself. "Why is it so motherfucking cold in here?" </p><p>Draco said he didn't have work today—Harry wasn't sure why. But he hadn't expected Draco to get up.</p><p>"Would you like a Calming Draught?" Draco asked, rubbing one of his eyes. "I think I might have diazepam, too, if you'd prefer Muggle."</p><p>Harry turned around, huffing a noise that was somewhere between a groan and a laugh, wondering if Draco really had diazepam. "Do I look alright?"</p><p>"You look…bloody marvellous. Luminous."</p><p>Harry looked down. The material <i>was</i> shiny. </p><p>"Harry, it'll be fine." Draco smiled. "You're <i>trying</i> to get sacked. So there's not really a way in which it will be a cock-up."</p><p>He intended to laugh, but what came out didn't sound right. A kind of nasal honk. "Yeah, I know. I just—" He sighed, running a hand over his face. "I know you didn't used to believe this, but I really have always hated the spotlight. I hated it when I was eleven and I hate it now. I hate when I have to do things—important things that I can't refuse—and the way I have to do them is by putting myself in the middle of everything. I'm much happier hanging out at the zoo, or sitting back and doing whatever Hermione delegates to me. I should be used to it by now, but, I guess…it always takes me a few minutes to gather myself."</p><p>Draco's face creased in some unreadable emotion, something that looked maybe guilty, but before he could say anything, Harry stepped into the Floo.</p><p>
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</p><p>He stepped out, taking a moment to roll his shoulders back. If he was going to this, he wasn't going to cower.</p><p>He counted in his mind, <i>One alohomora, two alohomora, three—</i></p><p>Every face in the vicinity swiveled to look at him and a person at the security desk rose from his seat. <a id="return2" name="return2"></a>There was a sign at his station reading, "Executive Order R.O.B.E.S.<sup>[<a href="#note2">2</a>]</sup> goes into effect today!" The man looked at the sign, then at Harry, then back at the sign—poor bloke clearly had no idea what to do. Harry was his boss. In fact, Harry was his boss's boss's boss. </p><p>He saw, also, at least two Prophet journalists.</p><p>Harry walked forward, wondering how he normally walked. Were his steps usually this long?</p><p>He'd been the object of much press and celebrity gossip since he and Draco had revealed their 'relationship,' so it wasn't unusual for Harry to draw snaps of cameras or shouts from reporters. </p><p>This was a slight shock layered on top of what was already always a frenzy. He knew he had mere seconds before chaos descended.</p><p>"Mr Potter!" a voice cried, and he saw the pink flash of a Press ID badge. "Mr Potter, would you like to make a statement about your outfit? About your position on the R.O.B.E.S. Order?"</p><p>He didn't answer, but he flashed her a smile, hoping it didn't look as pinched as it felt, and right after he saw the flash of a camera, he disappeared into one of the lifts.</p><p>As soon as the doors closed, he pulled out his mobile to text Parvati. <i>Convince me that I don't look like an appropriating twat.</i></p><p>The three dots appeared almost instantaneously and he waited impatiently. <i>Send us a pic, love, </i>Parvati wrote.</p><p>Oh, Merlin. Harry held the phone up awkwardly for a selfie, blushing as he murmured an apology to the other person on the lift, someone whom he thankfully did not know. He snapped the photo and pressed send.</p><p>Parvati sent back a gif of some people doing a happy dance together, then, <i>YOU LOOK FANTASTIC!</i></p><p>A moment later, <i>Lav says to remind us next time we're with you to show you how to take a good selfie.</i></p><p>He typed as he exited the lift, <i>I caused a commotion in the Atrium. Pretty sure a journalist got a photo. Think I'll be hauled into Rump's office today?</i></p><p>
  <i>Ew, Harry, I hope you don't have to SEE him. That would be vile. Can't he just fire you via text?</i>
</p><p>Harry laughed, both aloud and in emoji, then pocketed his phone and looked up. The entire personnel of the DMLE lobby was staring at him. After a long moment, Belinda, the administrative head, pressed her wand to an intercom on her desk and said, "Rodney, can you call in the DMLE PR crisis team? I think we may have need of them today." She withdrew her wand, then tapped it again. "Lara, I need you to assist Jorgen today….Whatever he wants….You'll see."</p><p>Harry smiled sheepishly. "Good morning, everyone." </p><p>He felt guilty about blindsiding them. He'd worked with them for so long; this was his home away from home. But it wasn't like he could've warned them about this plan; he didn't want them to be complicit. </p><p>One of the Indian interns, Suparna, looked like she might keel over in glee.</p><p>"I'll just—" Harry said, pointing towards his office and walking away. By the time he closed his office door, the office gossip had reached a loud buzz.</p><p>He breathed a sigh of relief and scrubbed a hand over his face. Hopefully that was the worst of it.</p><p>"Harry, my boy! Your face doesn't quite match the brilliance of your ensemble."</p><p>Harry snorted, opening his eyes to find Wilhelm peering curiously at him. "This ensemble is probably going to get me sacked today, Wil." He looked around the office. "Shit. They probably won't even let me come back in here after. Jorgen!"</p><p>Jorgen rushed up and Harry closed himself and his assistant into the office, casting a Muffliato. "Okay. In anticipation of Rump sacking me, I need your help getting my important things out of here."</p><p>Jorgen's face dropped, and Harry, again, felt guilty. Harry leaving pulled the rug out from under Jorgen's job, of course. He'd have to get used to a whole new person, with their own quirks and their own sentient office supplies.</p><p>"Starting with the clock, if you please," Wilhelm said, swinging his axe jauntily a few times for good measure. "You need to be careful with the screws in the back—a few are stripped."</p><p>Harry frowned, wondering how Wilhelm knew anything about the state of the screws on his clock, but decided to drop it. He never understood how Wilhelm knew <i>anything</i>.</p><p>Jorgen looked at Wilhelm, then back to Harry. "Of course. Sir, are you—are you alright?"</p><p>"I'm fine," Harry said—feeling anything but—and attempted a smile. </p><p>Jorgen didn't appear to believe him, but he set to work regardless. As Harry carefully placed his framed photographs into a work bag Hermione had expanded for him, he heard Jorgen incant, "Accio Harry's personal papers."</p><p>The file cabinets clattered open drawer by drawer and papers flew out, landing neatly in a pile in Jorgen's hands.</p><p>Harry grinned. Magic was great. He still didn't take it for granted—not usually, anyway. </p><p>There was a sharp knock at the office door. Harry winced. Jorgen was inside, so he had no buffer. </p><p>He loved having a buffer.</p><p>"Come in!"</p><p>Persephone Diggle, Head Auror, likely next Head of the DMLE, opened the door and cocked a hand on her hip. "Intentionally antagonising the Minister for Magic, Potter? I thought you'd left that sort of behaviour back in the '90s."</p><p>Her voice was terse, but Harry smiled. They'd worked together when they were both active Aurors. He could see the concern behind her stern expression. He could also see her eagerness in the twinkle of her eyes.</p><p>"It's a terrible policy," Harry said after a pause, deciding that a simple answer was the best answer. </p><p>She didn't make any sign of agreement—her lips thinned as she pressed them together. "Mm. Well, I'm not involved in this, but keep me in the loop, yeah?"</p><p>He nodded, and as she shut the door, he winced at the fact that she would, almost definitely, put her career above any ethical qualms. He wondered if maybe he was the only person who wouldn't. And if that was so, did it make sense for him to go out in a firestorm? Should he be staying, since no one else would have the backbone to mitigate Rump's evildoing? </p><p>Fuck.</p><p>There was a thud as Jorgen pulled the clock off the wall and made to put it into Harry's bag. </p><p>"Oy!" Wilhelm cried. "I'm not riding steerage!"</p><p>Jorgen paused, unsure what to do, so Harry yanked Wilhelm off the wooden base, allowing Jorgen to put the rest of the clock into the bag.</p><p>"What'll I do with you, now, eh?" Harry asked. </p><p>"Does that getup have any pockets?" Wilhelm asked, hinging forward at the hips for a better view of Harry's clothes. "I'd prefer a breast pocket, but I won't turn up my nose at a trouser."</p><p>Harry tucked Wilhelm into the pocket of his churidar, thankful that these trousers were, at least, new, and Wilhelm wouldn't be commenting about lint or other pocket detritus.</p><p>Jorgen handed Harry a pile of papers. He frowned; what even were these? The date was 2015—more than twenty years ago. He flipped through, trying to figure out if it needed to be kept. </p><p>Another knock at the door. "Come in!"</p><p>A man wearing an expensive-looking Muggle suit stepped inside far too familiarly for Harry's liking. Jorgen's too, judging from the way his assistant subtly raised his wand from the file cabinet to the door.</p><p>"Excuse me, you—" Jorgen started, but the man closed the door and sagged against it, and something about the movement of the shoulders told Harry who it was.</p><p>Harry pressed his lips together to quell a grin. "It's okay, Jorgen, it's—"</p><p>The man touched his wand to his head and the Glamours disappeared, revealing Draco. "Sorry. Didn't want them to think I was being an interfering spouse. Like I'm casting the Imperio, metaphorically or otherwise. One can never be too careful. It's important that everyone thinks you're still your own man."</p><p>Jorgen snorted. "<i>Are </i>you being an interfering spouse?"</p><p>Draco's face flushed a bit. "Well. Yes, I suppose." He stepped up to Harry, put his hands on Harry's shoulders. "How are you?"</p><p>"Waiting for the other shoe to drop," Harry said, shrugging. "Is it on the Prophet app? I turned my phone off."</p><p>"Yes, you look smashing." Draco dropped his hands as he looked around the office. "What are you doing, packing up all evidence of your years of wrongdoing?"</p><p>Harry laughed. "Yes, got to make sure they don't find evidence of my bribes and kickbacks."</p><p>"The walls have ears, lad," Wilhelm shouted from Harry's pocket.</p><p>"Oh," Harry said, frowning at the wall. Were the <i>walls</i> sentient, or was Wilhelm using idioms? "I'm joking! If anyone's listening! I've never taken a bribe or a kickback!"</p><p>Draco turned and pointed his wand at Harry's file cabinet as Jorgen had a few minutes ago. He whispered, "Accio papers that Rump could use to cause harm." A small stream of papers flew out of the cabinet and Draco Shrunk them mid-air as they soared into his pocket. "You can deal with those later."</p><p>"Give them to me," Harry said, holding out his hand, somehow not too concerned about the multitude of laws they might be breaking by taking these papers. "The building has charms to prevent civilians from leaving with classified information. Oh. Wait. I suppose that means I can't take them, either. Jorgen?"</p><p>Before he could answer, a purple envelope appeared in the middle of the air, zooming straight for Harry.</p><p>"Is that a <i>Howler</i>?" Draco asked. "What—"</p><p>Harry groaned. "Not a Howler, but based on them. Rump decided he hated the paper aeroplanes the Ministry uses because they looked 'girly.' He thought this fit better with his style." Having received more than his fair share of Howlers and Rumplers (as Harry called them, when safely out of earshot) over the years, he resignedly tapped it with his wand.</p><p>The purple envelope folded itself into a mouth and shouted,</p><p>
  <i>"POTTER, REPORT TO MY OFFICE AT ONCE."</i>
</p><p>Harry slumped in relief when the deafening noise ceased. </p><p>"He sends those all the time? For everything?" Draco asked, gaping. "To join the office raffle? To order a sarnie?"</p><p>Jorgen leaned forward conspiratorially. "For everything."</p><p>"Okay," Harry said, rolling back his shoulders. "I can do this. If they don't let me come back here, you will bring my bag—?"</p><p>When he turned, Draco was gone, replaced by the man who had walked into the office a few minutes ago. </p><p>"Draco, what are you doing?"</p><p>"I'm your solicitor, George Chambliss." Draco said this in a passable non-Malfoy accent.</p><p>Harry opened his mouth, then remembered what Wilhelm had said. He leaned forward and whispered, "Impersonation? You could lose your—"</p><p>"I've had outstanding ethics for exactly thirty-eight years," Draco said, looking somehow haughtier than usual with the strange face. "I won't make the same mistakes twice."</p><p>Harry almost wanted to make a snide comment about Draco's ethics thirty-<i>nine</i> years ago, but Draco had a look in his eye that stopped him. Harry's mind started boggling, trying to decide whether Draco was suggesting that <i>not</i> helping Harry now would be akin to supporting Voldemort. "Erm, okay. As long as you haven't forgotten about, you know, electability and all that."</p><p>"Haven't forgotten," Draco said, slanting a glance at Jorgen, whom Harry just accidentally let in on their political aspirations. Harry winced, but Draco didn't seem bothered. "Let's go."</p><p>Rump's office looked much the same as it had when Kingsley had been in office, but the atmosphere could not have been more different. Everyone there always seemed to be walking on eggshells—a state of affairs Harry was proud to report never prevailed in the DMLE under his leadership. Rump, on the other hand, sacked his assistants so oftenHarry had never met the same one twice.</p><p>Today, the assistant was a middle-aged wizard with greying hair who wore a pair of mustard-yellow traditional robes in a thick brocade fabric. He looked like a nervous canary.</p><p>"Er, hello," Harry said. "Harry Potter for Minister Rump. He sent a—he summoned me." Harry had almost said <i>rumpler, </i>which he was sure would've gone down poorly. He couldn't remember for the life of him what Rump actually called those things.</p><p>The assistant tapped his wand to his throat and said, "Harry Potter, sir."</p><p>A moment later, the tall double doors adorned with the stylised M of the Ministry flew open, revealing Rump. He radiated impatience, intolerance, and a pathological lack of care for his fellow humans. </p><p>Harry found it hard to be in the same room as him. Something about proximity to Rump reminded him of the clashing of his wand and Voldemort's—or repelling magnets. It was like Harry's very existence was threatened by and threatening to the man standing before him.</p><p>"Harry Potter," he spat (he always spat, so Harry didn't take that particular factor personally), "what the <i>fuck</i> do you think you're wearing?"</p><p>Harry opened his mouth to respond, but Rump held up a hand. "Get inside. Who is this?"</p><p>"George Chambliss," Draco said without pause, sticking out his hand. "Personal solicitor to Mr Potter."</p><p>Rump's eye roll could've been seen from space. "Whatever. Get in here."</p><p>With a wave of Rump's wand, the doors slammed behind them. </p><p>Harry found he was glad Draco was there. It wasn't that Rump intimidated him, exactly—Harry had faced much greater threats than this buffoon—but that his toxicity made it difficult to function. Harry, though, could feel Draco's presence behind him, and refused to cower before the pacing, red-faced fascist.</p><p>"Tell me, Potter," Rump began, "in Magical Britain, are law enforcement or Ministry officials above the law?"</p><p>Harry opened his mouth, but Rump didn't let him speak.</p><p>"They are not. If anything, they have a big responsibility to <i>follow</i> the law, as an example for the rest. So tell me, what are you wearing?"</p><p>Harry pushed his shoulders back as he answered, "A kurta and churidar, surely appropriate clothes for a work environment, which is more than I can say of many Ministry employees. I've seen people in Muggle-Worthy Excuses come to work wearing bathing costumes, after all."</p><p>You could almost <i>see </i>smoke pouring out of Rump's ears, like he'd eaten a Pepper Imp. "Don't play games with me, Potter. You get no special treatment from me for something you did when your bollocks were barely descended."</p><p>Ew. </p><p>"Infraction of 16 Ministry Code § 240," Draco said without emotion. "Ministry employees shall refrain from sexual conduct both in action and in speech, and—"</p><p>"Grow a pair," Rump growled at Draco, then turned back to Harry. "You're done, Potter. Pack your things. The Ministry will be better without you in it."</p><p>Something tightened in Harry's chest. Not that he cared about being bullied with language that was less mature than what Harry and Malfoy would've thrown at each other in their first year, or that he cared about what Rump thought. But the thought that <i>this</i> would be the end of one of the things that had been, until now, Harry's life's work—it stung.</p><p>"What exactly is inappropriate about this outfit?" Harry asked, gesturing at himself. "Is this tunic threatening to you, Norris? Is the cut of this fabric going to destroy the position of Western magic in the world order?"</p><p>"How dare—"</p><p>"Infraction of 14 Ministry Code § 340," Draco said. "The Ministry and its operatives shall not discriminate in hiring and personnel on the basis of blood status, ethnicity, gender—"</p><p>"No one cares about your little 'legal violations'," Rump sneered. "And Potter, the reason your clothes are inappropriate is that I said they are, and you didn't respect it. And yes, Western magic needs to be safeguarded. This is Magical Britain! Our traditions must be upheld—"</p><p>"Yeah, okay, I've heard enough," Harry said, tugging his DMLE badge out of his pocket and throwing it to the floor in front of Rump's feet. "Whatever you think 'Western magic' is, I want no part of it."</p><p>Harry turned, Draco following closely, and Rump started talking, trying to get in the last word, but Harry walked swiftly out of the office, not slowing until he was out of the entire department. Out of breath, he paused, then felt Draco's hand on his shoulder, nudging him forward. Harry, ears ringing, allowed himself to be steered, overcome with anger and annoyance and absolute disgust that people had <i>voted </i>for this person.</p><p>A moment later, Draco was opening a door, pushing Harry through. </p><p>It was a broom closet.</p><p>"Breathe, Harry," Draco said, casting an orb of light that floated above their heads. "Are you alright? He's worse than I remembered. Every time, he's worse than I remembered."</p><p>Harry closed his eyes and breathed, trying to calm his nerves. "I hate him so much." The words felt inadequate, but it was the only thought he was able to form. </p><p>Draco sighed, running a hand over his strange face. "Me too."</p><p>"Put your face back," Harry said, distractedly.</p><p>"Oh," Draco said, "right," and waved his wand to restore his appearance. </p><p>"What the fuck am I going to do now?" Harry began to pace the two feet of the closet. "This has been my career for—for decades!"</p><p>Draco didn't say anything, a tight press to his lips, and Harry glared at him. "What? You want to say something, but you're not saying it."</p><p>Draco's eyes flitted skyward. "It's not my place."</p><p>"Well, fucking say it, Draco; I'm making it your place."</p><p>"Don't you hate it?" Draco burst after a moment. "The Head of DMLE's role is almost entirely paperwork. You hate paperwork. You hate rote tasks. You like excitement and saving people and doing good. You enjoyed being an Auror well enough because of all that, even though I think you hated even <i>that</i> a lot of the time. But since you've been promoted? Tell me you haven't hated it, consistently, since it started."</p><p>"It is an important job!" Harry said, taken aback. "I needed to do it—to make sure that our law enforcement doesn't fuck people over! I, of all people, know how important it is for authority to be kept in check."</p><p>"I didn't fucking ask whether the job was important," Draco said, swinging an arm out dramatically and slamming it into a container of <i>Floors-B-Clean! </i>"I know that. And I'm not talking about that, or about whether you are good at it. I'm talking about whether <i>you,</i> Harry Potter, are or have ever been happy in that job."</p><p>"Of course I haven't!" Harry shouted, exasperated. "Of course I hate it! But this is my life, Draco. I do things because I have to. Welcome to my world."</p><p>Draco leaned back against the shelves, looking suddenly deflated. "You—" He stopped himself, ran a hand through his hair. "Harry. I think we should get a divorce."</p><p>"What?!" Harry's heart was beating hard enough to feel each thump. </p><p>"I—I don't want—you should have one part of your life where you don't feel that way, and I—I asked you to get married to save the world. I asked <i>you</i>, and<i>. </i>And you—"</p><p>Harry blinked. The number of times he'd seen Draco this rambly-upset were few and far between. Maybe the time Scorpius hadn't been invited to one of his and Albus's mate's birthday parties because he was a Malfoy. </p><p>"Draco," Harry said loud enough to interrupt, "I'm not talking about us. You were right to ask me. It will be good for everyone, for the country, plus it's good for me, too—not living alone. You know this."</p><p>There was something pained on Draco's face. "I don't want to be another thing that forces you into a life you don't want."</p><p>"Well that's simple, then," Harry said. "I want it. I'm happy. I'm happier now than when I was living alone. Are <i>you</i> happy?"</p><p>"Me?"</p><p>"Yes, you. It takes two people to be in a life together like this."</p><p>"I'm—guilty." Draco closed his eyes. "I feel guilty for making you do this. But I'm happy, yes, I guess."</p><p>"Then forget the guilt; there's nothing to be guilty for. And you're right. About the job. I'm worried about what will happen, now that I'm gone—but I won't miss it."</p><p>"You were good at it," Draco said. "But it didn't suit you."</p><p>Harry exhaled loudly. "Can't believe I got sacked today."</p><p>"Correction: you <i>quit </i>today. The public may never know that, because you did this strategically. But you were in control of everything that happened today. If he thinks he had any power in that interaction, he's delusional. Which, we know, he is."</p><p>"Alright," Harry said. "Alright." </p><p>For a long minute, they stood in silence. Harry tried to gather his wits for the curious stares they would get in the DMLE offices, the onslaught of press and onlookers they would encounter in the Atrium.</p><p>"Better get a move on, lads," Wilhelm's voice shouted from Harry's pocket, causing Harry to jump about a foot. "Auror Diggle's map just told me that there's a crowd forming outside the DMLE offices."</p><p>Draco frowned at Harry. "Are you wearing sentient <i>trousers</i>?"</p><p>"That's Wilhelm, my…clock. My woodcutter. My lumberjack scheduler. You've met."</p><p>"Your—" Draco shook his head. "Nevermind."</p><p>
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</p><p>They'd collected Harry's bags and personal effects, said quick farewells to the people in the DMLE offices, and made it into the corridor (where, indeed, there was a large crowd, including photographers—Harry could only assume that Rump had instructed Security to allow them in to witness Harry's supposed humiliation, though many of them seemed to be shouting for Harry and Draco to kiss) when Jorgen burst out of the door behind them and started pushing through the crowd.</p><p>"Mr Potter! Harry!" Jorgen cried, shouting above the voices asking Harry to make a comment. "HARRY!"</p><p>Harry looked over his shoulder, hearing the frantic tone in Jorgen's voice. There was something on Jorgen's face—it reminded Harry of the anxiety of a parent getting a phone call from their child's school. It was one of his kids. It was the anxiety that bubbled in a parent's chest, provoking a panicked, <i>Are they okay?</i></p><p>But then Jorgen smiled, having finally pushed his way through the crowd. He tugged Harry and Draco close and said, out of breath, "The baby is coming. So far so good. Albus and Scorpius want you at St Mungo's."</p><p>Harry blinked, looked at Draco, blinked again. He dropped the bags he was carrying, then realised that wasn't right and bent to pick them up. </p><p>"I got it," Jorgen said, kneeling down. "I'll bring them to your house—go, go! Tell me when she's born?"</p><p>"Of course, Jorg," Harry said, grinning like a cheshire cat. "Thank you!" He turned to Draco, ready to run to the lift, but Draco was searching through his suit pockets. </p><p>"Where is it?" he muttered, patting different pockets. "I've been carrying it for weeks!"</p><p>"Where's what?"</p><p>"Aha!" Draco pulled a Wine Gums roll from his interior pocket and thrust it towards Harry, waving his wand in the other hand to Transfigure Harry's eye-catching, insubordinate clothes into nondescript jeans and a jumper. "Don't want to cause a scene at St Mungo's."</p><p>"Er?"</p><p>Draco waggled the Wine Gums. "It's a Portkey to St Mungo's. Grab!"</p><p>Harry started laughing, overcome with anticipation and amusement at Draco's months of baby preparation, and grabbed the Wine Gums. A moment later, they were spinning, knocking over at least a dozen nosy onlookers as they disappeared centrifugally.</p><p>
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</p><p>One good thing about being Harry Potter was that when you arrived in the lobby of St Mungo's in the whirlwind of a Portkey (not technically allowed, and rightly so—they knocked over at least one pot plant) the Welcome Wizard took one look at you and ushered you to Labor and Delivery posthaste.</p><p>Albus was pacing; Scorpius was sat in an uncomfortable-looking chair bouncing his legs at an alarming rate. Ginny and Astoria stood leaning against the wall, smiling and talking.</p><p>As Draco kneeled in front of Scorpius and put his hands on those jiggling knees, Harry intercepted Albus's pacing and wrapped him in a hug. </p><p>"How's it going, Al?"</p><p>"Everything's fine," Al said, sounding anything but. "She's in there with the midwife. A Healer has come to check on them a few times. <a id="return3" name="return3"></a>The Ministry rep from B.A.I.R.N.s<sup>[<a href="#note3">3</a>]</sup> was here to fill out some paperwork and said they'll be back again later." </p><p>A mediwitch walked up behind Harry and Draco. "Oh, hello!" She glanced at Astoria and Ginny. "Your husbands are here!"</p><p>"Ex-husband," they each said.</p><p>"Oh, sorry," the mediwitch replied, clearly embarrassed. "I shouldn't've assumed."</p><p>"Our dads are married now, actually," Scorpius said, bubbling over with nervous energy. </p><p>Harry turned, and the mediwitch caught sight of his face and turned bright red. "Ah, yes. Of course. I'm so sorry, Mr Potter! Er, anyway, I just wanted to update you. She's five centimetres dilated."</p><p>"That's half," Al said. "That means halfway, right?"</p><p>The mediwitch gave him a pitying sort of look. "Halfway <i>dilated</i>—but dilation doesn't happen linearly. Impossible to say how much more time it will take."</p><p>Albus closed his eyes. </p><p>"Thanks for telling us," Scorpius said, standing and wrapping an arm around Al's waist. The two of them walked towards the other end of the corridor, talking quietly.</p><p>Harry went to hug Ginny. "Hey, Gin. Good to see you. Hi Astoria. Is Gardon here?"</p><p>Gardon was Astoria's husband. He was a Charms Theorist. Astoria smiled at Harry from over Ginny's shoulder. "Hullo, Harry. He's in Wales, but he's going to come back tonight."</p><p>"The boys are freaking out so much, you'd think it was their bodies being ripped apart," Ginny said, a fond twinkle in her eyes.</p><p>Harry snorted. "Pretty sure it is their <i>hearts</i> being split in two, at the moment. I just hope they'll calm the fuck down when the baby is actually here. I don't want them helicoptering my grandfathering."</p><p>Ginny, face in a wide smile, pointed a finger at Harry. "Do you remember how you acted when James first came home? You told my mum she wasn't supporting his head enough!"</p><p>Harry laughed, rubbing at his forehead. "I was really determined to be a good dad."</p><p>Ginny patted him stoutly on the shoulder and smiled. "You succeeded."</p><p>Draco came to stand next to Astoria. "I can't decide if it feels like a lifetime ago that we were here having Scorpius, or if that feels like it was just the other day."</p><p>Astoria smiled, but Harry noticed that she and Draco didn't act quite as familiar with each other as he and Ginny still did. If there was one thing he'd learned about divorce, it was that it played out differently with every couple.</p><p>"When we were here for Lily," Harry said, "I think we were in and out in six hours flat. She came in like a Gryffindor, that's for sure."</p><p>Ginny laughed, tilting her head back. "Well, by the third…I'm pretty sure I knew more about birth than the mediwitch who was on that day."</p><p>"Between you and your Mum, you did for sure," Harry said, lost in a haze of memory. It was strange—being here again, in a different role. It was exciting, but in a way where he wasn't sure exactly <i>how</i> it was exciting. He knew what to expect, but he didn't. Like ordering a cake, but every component was an unusual flavour.</p><p>After they'd been there for an hour, Ginny sat cross-legged on the floor and pulled out a pack of Exploding Snap cards. </p><p>After they'd been there two hours, the mediwitch informed them that the mother was six and a half centimetres dilated. </p><p>"Can't you give her something?" Albus asked from the seat next to Harry.</p><p>"Albus Severus," Ginny said from the floor, "the baby is yours. The cervix is not. Leave it."</p><p>Al sighed. After a moment, he rolled his head to the side and caught Harry's eye. "Distract me. Tell me something new."</p><p>Harry tried to think of something interesting. The most interesting thing he'd been doing lately was reading about Jasper Anderson's space pregnancy, but that didn't seem appropriate for the venue.</p><p>"Er," Harry said, shrugging. "I got sacked today."</p><p>"You what?" Ginny scrambled to stand, a delighted grin stretching across her face.</p><p>"As a point of fact, I would say Harry <i>quit</i>," Draco corrected. "He knew exactly what he was doing."</p><p>"What happened?" Ginny asked.</p><p>"Was it the clothes thing?" Scorpius asked, eyes wide.</p><p>Normally, Harry would hate being the centre of attention, but in this case, he was happy to distract Albus and Scorpius so the poor woman's cervix could dilate in peace. He launched into the whole story—how Parvati and Lavender had chosen the clothes, the argument that Draco and Lavender had got into about the cut of the trousers, his concern about cultural appropriation, and the scene he'd caused in the Atrium that morning.</p><p>"So then I get a Rumpler screaming at me to go to his office—"</p><p>"Oy, lad," Wilhelm bellowed from his pocket, "you forgot how that husband of yours showed up incognito!"</p><p>"You <i>what</i>?" Scorpius said, spinning to look at Draco.</p><p>"I was only offering my legal assistance," Draco said, looking somewhat embarrassed. "I—"</p><p>Draco cut off as a giant horseshoe on wooden legs came careening down the corridor, nimbly dodging objects in its path, coming to a stop at the door. The mediwitch threw open the door to let the object in, looking up only for a moment to say, "Nine centimetres!" Once the horseshoe was through, she closed the door.</p><p>"<i>What </i>was that?" Draco asked, bewildered.</p><p>"I think it was a birthing stool," Scorpius said. Then he stood up straight, his eyes twinkling. "Albus. Al! I think that was a birthing stool!" Scorpius started wiggling his fingers, like the nervous energy had to find a way out of his body.</p><p>"Okay," Albus said, running his hands through his hair and tucking it behind his ears. "Okay. This is good. This is good!" He seemed to be trying to convince himself.</p><p>Astoria sat in one of the chairs and pulled off her high heels. "A poor choice for the day this has turned out to be," she said, pointing her wand at the shoe and Transfiguring it into a flat.</p><p>Ginny, out of Astoria's line of sight, bounced on her trainers a little, as if to emphasise how comfortable her feet were. Harry had to hide a smile.</p><p>Ginny stared at Albus assessingly, reminding Harry of the way she used to inspect the kids for signs of illness when they were little. "Hazza," she said, "I think we need some sugar. Go find us some sweets?"</p><p>Funny how easy it was to slip into old family patterns—even now. Harry nodded. "Sure. Draco, come with me, you can pay."</p><p>Ginny and Scorpius laughed at that, and Harry and Draco wandered away in search of snacks.</p><p>"It's strange," Draco said in a careful tone as they turned the corner, "seeing you with Ginny. It's hard to imagine why you got divorced. You act like a happy couple, even now."</p><p>Harry slanted a glance at Draco, but Draco was looking ahead. "Yeah, we probably do. But that's only because we're still good friends. There was no way she'd ever not feel like family, you know? What with the Weasleys being my surrogate family. It's a bit like we're siblings and friends, now, but with the added history of a shared life." He shrugged. "But oh—you should've seen us at our worst."</p><p>"Really?" Draco asked.</p><p>Harry shrugged again. He wasn't proud of how he and Ginny had been before their divorce. It wasn't something he talked about much. He was proud they'd made it through that—that they were good now. "We fought all the time, about everything. Hermione said it was like watching Godric Gryffindor married to himself. We, I don't know, resented each other, I think. Maybe that's what comes from getting married too young, having kids young. Everything was chaos all the time. Neither of us would take responsibility for things. If one of us was on our own, we'd be fine, but when we were together! I don't know. It was a mess."</p><p>"Hmm," Draco said, reaching the vending cabinet and touching his wand to a pack of biscuits that Scorpius liked. "What will they want?"</p><p>Harry selected sugary sweets for himself and his side of the family, and they began the walk back. "I'm so glad they added Muggle sweets to these cabinets," Harry said, tearing open a pack of Percy Pigs. "I love a Chocolate Frog, but none of the magical gummy sweets are as good as these."</p><p>Draco laughed, but shook his head when Harry proffered the bag. </p><p>"I can't believe you're still on that keto shit."</p><p>"It's a lifestyle, Harry, not a diet."</p><p>"Sure, whatever."</p><p>When they returned, Ginny and Astoria were alone—Ginny looking nervous, Astoria stiff, as they stared at the closed door. </p><p>"Where are the kids?" Harry asked, passing out the sweets and Conjuring an apple for Draco.</p><p>"The midwife came out and said the bio mum invited them in." Ginny said, her eyes meeting Harry's for a brief, distracted smile. </p><p>"She called the boys 'the parents'," Astoria said. "The midwife said, 'She says the parents can come in.'"</p><p>"That's weird as fuck," Harry said, leaning back on the wall, his heart in his throat. <i>Just let the baby be okay. Just let the baby be okay. And its mum. Let them be okay. </i></p><p>Draco leaned next to him. "This is surreal."</p><p>Without overthinking it, Harry reached for Draco's hand, twining their fingers together.</p><p>"I feel old," Ginny said from Harry's other side, leaning her head on his shoulder and propping the heel of one trainer out on the floor in front of them.</p><p>"We're young," Draco said in that way he had. "Nowhere near as old as our parents were when our kids were born."</p><p>"Your mother was fifty-one when Scorpius was born," Astoria retorted, her mouth curling up in amusement.</p><p>"Nonsense," Draco said, grinning. "That's impossible, for I am fifty-six now, and clearly much younger than they were."</p><p>Ginny frowned at her phone. "James and Lily are texting me every five minutes."</p><p>"Teddy's been texting us," Draco said.</p><p>"And Ron and Hermione," Harry added.</p><p>"Lily says she will never forgive Albus for not letting them come straightaway."</p><p>Harry leaned his head back on the wall. "Lils will get over it."</p><p>For a few long minutes, no one spoke. Harry took a deep breath. These moments—waiting, the cusp of life—always shook him. Waiting. It reminded him of Sirius and the way time had seemed to slow as he disappeared behind the veil. It reminded him of waiting every time someone was injured in the war; waiting, every time an Auror was injured on the job; waiting, Ginny, holding her breath and pushing, and then James, sucking in the first breath of life; the moment when Snape's soul left his eyes; waiting in the corridor with Hermione waiting for her dad to die, comforting her as they stood waiting, waiting and listening to his rattling breath hold onto life a little longer; the time his and Ginny's old cat had gone to bed one night and, in the morning, there'd been five kittens in the bed with her; King's Cross station; the day Harry had pulled Lily out of the water and time had stopped as he slapped her on the back before she inhaled an enormous, shuddering breath—</p><p>Draco squeezed his hand. "Harry. Alright?"</p><p>Ginny peered around at them. "Is he freaking out?" She took a step back, hands up. "That's all you, now, Malfoy." Her words sounded sharp, but she patted Harry's back comfortingly before walking a few steps away with Astoria, giving Harry space.</p><p>"I'm fine," Harry said. "It's just—you spend your whole life thinking of <i>living </i>as this robust thing, but then you stand on the edge of it and remember that it's just—not."</p><p>Draco sighed, leaning back against the wall. "I remember when Stori was in labour and we came in—I couldn't stop thinking: we're going in as two people, and coming out as three."</p><p>"It's magic," Harry said, smiling in a manner he was sure looked pained. This baby needed to be born already, or Harry was likely to become a pile of nostalgia on the floor, seasoned with a mixture of love and grief.</p><p>The door to the room flew open, revealing a grinning midwife.</p><p>"Well?" Astoria said, propelling herself off the wall in her eagerness.</p><p>The midwife nodded and waved them inside.</p><p>Ginny and Astoria ran in. Harry and Draco followed.</p><p>Looking around the room, Harry asked, "Where's the mum?" turning towards the midwife.</p><p>"She elected to be moved to recovery."</p><p>Harry hoped she had someone with her, that she had someone hugging her and telling her how brave she was.</p><p>He took two long strides and found himself on the side of a bed. Albus and Scorpius sat cross-legged on the bed, their shoes still on, facing each other, heads bowed together, knees touching. They held between them a tiny bundle of blankets, and Harry had to shift to the side to see the baby's face—scrunched, red, perfect. </p><p>Harry looked up, teary, and saw Ginny, hands over her mouth, and Draco, staring, in awe.</p><p>"What's her name?" Draco asked, his voice cracking. "Or are you going to continue torturing us by withholding that information?"</p><p>Scorpius looked up, his eyes full of stars. "Aster. Aster Irene Potter-Malfoy."</p><p>"Aster," Ginny said, reaching out and placing a hand on the baby's blanket. "You're a strong woman already, aren't you?"</p><p>Harry snapped a quick photo on his mobile and sent it to Ron and Hermione with the comment, <i>Look, I'm Grandpa Harry! </i>and to the group chat he had with his kids and Teddy with the comment, <i>SHE'S HERE! </i>That done, he tossed his phone onto the empty visitor chair and stared at Aster. He was pretty sure staring at Aster was something he'd never get tired of.</p><p>"You picked a constellation name," Draco said, surprised. "I didn't think—"</p><p>"Nuh uh," Harry said, shaking his head and nudging Draco. "They picked a <i>flower</i> name, like my mum."</p><p>Draco gave him an unimpressed look. "<i>My </i>mum has a flower name, too, Harold."</p><p>"We thought," Albus said, looking up, a bit dazed, "that if she was going to have the baggage of a surname like Potter-Malfoy, we might as well go all in and have you two arguing forever about which family she was named for."</p><p>"No," Draco said, leaning in and smiling at Aster. He glanced over his shoulder at Harry. "She's named for both."</p><p>"You're both mistaken," Astoria said, wiping her eye with a handkerchief. "She's clearly named after me."</p><p>Ginny put her hand on her hip. "Erm, I'm starting to feel slighted."</p><p>Harry could tell Ginny was joking, but Scorpius's head snapped up, concerned. "Oh, don't feel slighted. Her middle name is Irene, for the goddess of peace. That's for you and Harry, of course, for the war. And for her bio mum, who was so brave."</p><p>They stand, transfixed by Aster, for a long while.</p><p>"Who wants to hold her?" Albus asked.</p><p>From there, it devolved into chaos.</p><p>
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</p><p>Harry couldn't stop smiling. He smiled all through holding Aster for the first time, as he kept whispering, "Hi!" over and over, in awe. He smiled through hugging Albus perhaps more tightly than he'd ever hugged another human. He smiled through getting choked up over seeing Albus and Scorpius together with the baby. He smiled through the arrival of his other kids and Molly and Arthur and the Greengrasses. (He smiled extra hard when Draco told him that Narcissa and Lucius would not be coming to St Mungo's to meet the baby.) He smiled as he watched Draco become uncharacteristically speechless when holding Aster, and he smiled as he watched Ginny dance around the room with her, singing, for some reason, the White Stripes' "In the Cold, Cold Night."He smiled as Albus and Scorpius bumbled their way through their first nappy change (the charm is finicky, he, smiling, reassured Albus). He smiled through saying goodbyes and securing an invitation to go over to Albus and Scorpius's flat the next day (bringing dinner). He smiled on the walk with Draco through St Mungo's and even in the Floo back to their house.</p><p>Draco flopped onto the sofa and said, beatifically, "You know, I think I understand it now."</p><p>"Understand what?" Harry asked, tugging off his shoes.</p><p>"How people end up having so many kids." Draco let his head fall back. "That feeling could get addictive."</p><p>Harry sat down on the opposite side of the sofa, leaning against the arm and angling himself towards Draco. "He, father of one, says."</p><p>Draco waved his hand in the air. "That's irrelevant; you know Malfoys only ever have one male heir." Harry hadn't known that. "I don't even want to know what disturbing blood magic my ancestors used to accomplish that." He inclined his neck and frowned, meeting Harry's eye. "Thank Merlin Aster doesn't have any of that nonsense running through her veins."</p><p>"She's so fucking cute," Harry enthused. "Right? Like, it's not my imagination. She is <i>so</i> cute, right?"</p><p>Draco laughed. "I agree with your assessment."</p><p>"And you know what the best part is?"</p><p>"What?" Draco asked, standing and making his way to the kitchen. He opened the cabinet with the cheese charms—evidently he thought cheese was the appropriate way to celebrate a birth. "Do you fancy a white Stilton?"</p><p>"I fancy all cheese," Harry replied, because <i>honestly</i>. "The best part is that we are home and don't have to lose any sleep caring for her. And then we can go tomorrow and see her during waking hours, and then we can come back home and sleep tomorrow night."</p><p>Draco put the cheese on a board and went searching for a knife. He raised an eyebrow in Harry's direction. "Are you sure you won't end up martyring yourself? If Albus and Scorpius are Slytherin about it, they might manipulate your Saviour inclinations."</p><p>Harry snorted, standing and wandering into the kitchen. He was thirsty; the air in St Mungo's was awful. He grabbed a glass. "How exactly would that work?"</p><p>Draco's shoulder hitched up. "They could do it any number of ways. Convince you that they will die if they don't sleep, so you have to come over and relieve them. Or they could prey on your childhood traumas, tell you that they're going to implement a cry-it-out policy, then stand back and watch you swoop in."</p><p>"You're impossible," Harry said, after downing an entire glass of water. He wondered, privately, whether Draco was right. He would go over there if the kids needed a break.</p><p>Draco gestured at Harry with a bag of walnuts. "You're the soft one, that's all I'm saying. Despite what the public thinks, that you're like a big bad Auror who annihilated Voldemort with his eyes closed, using his non-wand hand, or whatever they say about you these days. All I'm saying is, of all the grandparents, if the boys were looking for a mark…"</p><p>Harry laughed, not bothered by this statement in the least. He walked behind Draco with his empty glass, thinking he might get some of that fancy mineral water Draco kept in the wine cooler. "Guilty as charged. No, more than guilty—I'm proud of that."</p><p>Draco turned around, smiling widely, arresting Harry with his gaze. "You!" He laughed, tossing the walnuts on the counter behind him. "How are you even real?"</p><p>Harry leaned back, the oven door handle digging into his lower back. He was still smiling—he simply couldn't stop. "What?!"</p><p>"You! You're all—" Draco started gesturing again. "You're scary as fuck when you're doing important things, and you don't even realise it. You have no idea how people in the DMLE look at you, with respect and fear and desire to impress you." He stopped, thinking, then poked his finger into Harry's chest. "They look at you like you're <i>McGonagall!</i>"</p><p>Harry burst out laughing. "Oh my god, they do not!"</p><p>"They do! They know how many truly horrible people you've taken down; they're scared shitless of you, and rightly so. But then you turn around and you're talking to a sentient clock or saving all the world's babies or something. Or babbling about the hypothetical mechanics of male space pregnancies."</p><p>"Don't make fun of me!" Harry laughed.</p><p>"I'm not, I—" Draco stopped talking. His eyes were a sparkling grey, his cheeks pink with the excitement of the day. Harry watched as Draco's gaze dropped to Harry's lips.</p><p>If Harry had any doubt about his attraction to Draco (which he clearly didn't, despite pushing it out of his mind most of the time out of a swirling myriad of reasons), it would've been settled by the swoop of Harry's stomach, the tug of want he felt deep in his gut. Harry blinked, the smile dropping from his lips for the first time in hours. </p><p>He couldn't remember why he wasn't supposed to show his interest in Draco. Surely he'd had a reason for downplaying it, for acting like it was no big deal to pretend it didn't exist. He must have had a reason for being so <i>careful </i>all the time. There must have been a reason why he didn't allow himself to do what he wanted, to roll closer in bed. But now he couldn't remember why. Not with Draco, flushed with happiness, dropping his gaze to Harry's lips.</p><p>Harry grinned again as he caught Draco's eye. "Hey Gramps, can I ask you something?" </p><p>One eyebrow rose in disdain. "Did you just call me <i>Gramps</i>? I thought we'd agreed I was to be <i>Grandfather, </i>or possibly Grand<i>pa</i>, depending on your choice<i>.</i>"</p><p>"Let me ask you something."</p><p>Draco swirled his hand, palm up, as if inviting Harry to continue.</p><p>"Can I kiss you?"</p><p>Draco blinked, taken aback. His eyes fell to Harry's lips again, then snapped back to Harry's eyes. "Can—?"</p><p>"I'd really like to," Harry whispered. For a long second, Harry thought Draco was going to step away.</p><p>But then Draco reached out a hand and grasped Harry's bicep—Harry wasn't sure which of them closed the space, but Draco's lips were on his and he was <i>abuzz. </i>They kissed chastely for a few seconds, but then Harry couldn't help but let out a small hum of contentment, and Draco pulled back, looked at him, and then dove back in with fervor. Harry snaked his arms around Draco's waist, pulling him closer, and Draco's hands were in his hair, running down his back, resting on the waist of his trousers. </p><p>The happiness that had been coursing through Harry for hours reached a crescendo—he laughed against Draco's lips, overflowing with joy. He felt rather than saw Draco's returning smile, then leaned in and deepened the kiss. Draco gasped, pushing Harry against the oven. Draco's chest crowded Harry, one of the knobs poking into Harry's back, but then Draco broke the kiss and pulled his face away.</p><p>"This, this isn't—" Draco stammered, closed his eyes, opened them again. "This isn't something you have to do. I have no expectations. You're under no obligation; this isn't necessary to stop the march of magifascism. I want to make sure—"</p><p>Something clenched deep in Harry's chest. "Draco."</p><p>"What?"</p><p>Harry leaned forward, tilting his head and fitting it into the space between Draco's ear and shoulder. "I want to. I know it's not an obligation."</p><p>Draco's head dropped to the side, his cheek pressing against Harry's head. "Oh. Okay. <i>Fuck</i>."</p><p>Harry nudged Draco with his knee. "Assuming you want to, too. I've said that I want to a few times now, and you haven't, so like—"</p><p>Draco answered by kissing him again, pushing him against the oven harder, rolling his hips into Harry's. Whatever this was they were doing went from snogging to something more intentional, to something leading to more—the arousal between them now mutually acknowledged and encouraged. Tangibly <i>encouraged</i>, Harry thought giddily, trying to keep himself together despite the hot pool of arousal coursing through his veins.</p><p>Harry gasped, laughing again, as his head hit something hard. "Ow," he laughed, between kisses, reaching up to hold his head. "I whacked a knob."</p><p>Draco pressed his lips to Harry's neck, which was doing something to Harry's insides. "Was that innuendo, Potter? It was awful." His teeth grazed Harry's ear.</p><p>Harry laughed. "Not innuendo, just, if we're going to keep doing this, I would really like to take this somewhere where you won't be impaling my back on a handle." A pause. "For fuck's sake, why is <i>everything</i> a word for a penis?"</p><p>Draco's laugh rumbled against Harry's neck, and his voice was scratchy when he said, "We wouldn't want to have you impaled from behind. On a knob."</p><p>Harry tilted his head back, hoping that would encourage Draco to continue whatever he was doing to Harry's neck. "Look," Harry said, trying to affect a pedantic tone, "I only like to be impaled on knobs under the right circumstances, for example, with proper consent and forewarning, and preferably when it won't result in an accidental self-cleaning cycle."</p><p>"You are so fucking ridiculous," Draco drawled into his neck. "And yeah, I want to keep doing this."</p><p>Harry didn't answer with words, and before long Draco grabbed Harry's wrist and Apparated them to the bedroom. Before Harry could even catch his balance, Draco grabbed the hem of Harry's jumper and yanked it off. As soon as it came over Harry's head and arms, it Transfigured back into the kurta from earlier in the day, but Harry barely noticed as the shiny red fabric fell to the ground, as Draco's hands had grabbed Harry's waist, his cold hands pressing firmly into the soft skin of Harry's middle.</p><p>"Wait," Harry said, freezing with horror. "Wait. Oh, fuck me." </p><p>Draco raised an eyebrow. "I was trying to?"</p><p>"Hold <i>on</i>," Harry said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out Wilhelm, little wooden eyebrows and mouth arranged in a suggestive, almost congratulating smirk.</p><p>Draco jumped back about a foot. </p><p>"Don't mind me, lads! Yeh seemed to be getting on just fine!" Wilhelm proclaimed, swinging his axe up onto his shoulder.</p><p>Harry closed his eyes, wondering how this was his life. When he opened his eyes, Draco had turned around, and Harry watched his shoulders shaking with laughter.</p><p>"Wil, er, don't take this the wrong way, but I'm going to have to send you downstairs, alright?"</p><p>Wilhelm winked, which was disturbing, his little wooden eyelid clinking down, and Harry waved his wand and watched him disappear from Harry's hand.</p><p>"He was in my fucking <i>pocket</i>," Harry lamented. "With you—you know—"</p><p>"Do you have any other sentient objects on your person?" Draco asked, turning around, face full of mirth. "Are your socks going to critique our snogging? Do you have a mobile named Brunhilde who will set timers to gauge our stamina? A pocketwatch named Dietrich who will store data on your refractory period?"</p><p>Harry turned his wand on Draco, sending out a mild Stinging Hex, and Draco laughed harder, rubbing his chest. </p><p>"Ow, you brute," Draco laughed.</p><p>Harry let his wand clatter to the ground as he grabbed Draco's hand and tugged him closer like he was going to kiss him, but then snaked a hand up Draco's shirt and tickled him mercilessly.</p><p>Draco reacted to being tickled with as much drama as Harry might've hoped, and Harry ended up laughing harder than Draco, especially after Draco kneed him in the hip. </p><p>"Are you always like this when you have sex?" Draco asked, face completely splotchy and hair a mess. "I can't tell if we're about to fuck or if we're putting on a slapstick duel."</p><p>"I would <i>love</i> to slapstick duel you," Harry replied honestly. If they were ever short of cash, they could probably charge a small fortune for tickets to that.</p><p>"Alright," Draco replied easily, but he started unbuttoning his shirt.</p><p>"Do we duel naked?"</p><p>"I suppose that's one way of putting it," Draco said as his shirt fell to the floor. He walked forward, shoving Harry onto his arse on the bed.</p><p>"Hi," Harry said.</p><p>"Good day," Draco said with Dickensian flair.</p><p>"I've never fucked a grandfather before," Harry said, flopping back onto his elbows. "At least. I don't think I have."</p><p>Draco lowered himself on top of Harry, bringing their mouths close. Just when Harry thought Draco was going to kiss him, he said instead, "I can't wait for you to get to Chapter 30."</p><p>Harry frowned, struggling to keep up, more than a little distracted by the feel of Draco's body.  "Was that a non sequitur? Or is there grandfather lovin' in <i>Traitor in the Portal</i>?"</p><p>"You'll have to keep reading," Draco said.</p><p>Harry reached up and threaded his fingers into Draco's hair, overcome with this reality. He wondered when Draco had started looking at him like that, but he couldn't remember. He wondered when <i>he'd</i> started thinking about Draco like a potential sexual partner; it was definitely before the wedding, because he remembered telling Draco, like it was an admission, that he liked kissing him. </p><p>Draco tilted his head to the side. "What is it, Potter? I can hear you thinking. You changing your mind before we get to the slapstick duel?"</p><p>Harry pushed himself up, pressing his lips to Draco's, pulling him closer, lest he think Harry had changed his mind.</p><p>And it hadn't been one moment, had it? There wasn't a moment when a switch toggled and Harry felt differently about Draco.</p><p>As Draco's hand trailed down his torso, Harry's mind whirred through so many moments—many of them long, long before Harry ever had any thought of Draco as someone he'd want touching him this way. The look on his face, a few times, in the war. He and Draco, over fifteen years ago, at West Wittering beach with teenaged Albus and Scorpius, who were at the time "only friends." Working with him and Hermione and Penny on LabMag elections and policy, pulling all-nighters on the campaign trail. Years ago—probably ten years now—watching Draco argue in front of the Wizengamot that human supremacy in Magical Law was a violation of the rights of non-human beings and that any law or policy should be written by a body with representation of all beings affected by it. Draco, convinced the two of them could stop some of the evil in the world, Draco, handing him an ice cream sundae. Draco, speechless in St Mungo's. </p><p>"Do you ever feel," Harry asked, pulling his lips away from Draco's, "like your life is just beginning? Even though you're 55? Wait, no, 56."</p><p>Draco raised one eyebrow. "Not personally," he said, drawing out the word. "But most people who are lucky enough to fall into bed with me report that the event is life-defining; now this momentous event has occurred, their life can finally begin. So it makes good sense you'd be feeling that way."</p><p>Harry rolled his eyes as dramatically as he could manage. "I didn't mean—"</p><p>Draco pushed himself backward, off the bed and onto his knees. "I'm going to suck you off now," he interrupted, his frank words at odds with his dramatic hyperbole of moments ago. "Unless you have any objections."</p><p>"<i>Merlin</i>, no objections," Harry whispered, fingers reaching for Draco's hair.</p><p>Draco spelled Harry's trousers and pants off, cast a stabilisation spell at his own spine (which Harry would almost definitely tease him for later), and took Harry's penis into his mouth.</p><p>Harry exhaled loudly, overcome with sensation, trying to adjust to the feeling of Draco's mouth on him. "Mmm," he said, melting into the bed and squeezing Draco's soft shoulder, "higher up with the tongue."</p><p>Draco complied, bringing his tongue more in line with the frenulum. He squeezed the fingers of one hand around the base, his other hand on Harry's thigh.</p><p>Harry arched, looking up at the ceiling—which he and Draco had spelled last month to mimic the night sky, like Harry's bedroom in his old house. He glimpsed the stars, closed his eyes, and smiled.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p><a id="note1" name="note1"></a><sup>1</sup> Wizengamot Administration Services <sup> [ <a href="#return1">return to text</a> ]</sup></p><p><a id="note2" name="note2"></a><sup>2</sup> R.O.B.E.S.—Respectable Occidental British Ensembles <sup> [ <a href="#return2">return to text</a> ]</sup></p><p><a id="note3" name="note3"></a><sup>3</sup> Department of B.A.I.R.N.s - Births, Adoptions, Interrelational bonds, Repro/fertilimancy, and Nuptials. </p><p>Albus Severus Potter has been known to rant about the inclusion of marriages and bonds under the purview of a department overseeing "propagation of the magical race" (the language used in the department's original charter, since updated to "reflect the times"). He often points out that the institution of marriage is, quite explicitly, about state control of the family unit and the (capitalist, bureaucratic) state interest in achieving replacement fertility. Scorpius Malfoy at this point usually adds that the history is unambiguously one in which heterosexual family structures were used to prop up the state as an institution at a time when magical governmental capacity was tenuous at best. (He then segues into a tangent about the difficulty of state control of a group of people as unpredictable and powerful as the magical populace.) Albus customarily agrees, concluding that the continued existence of B.A.I.R.N.s as a Ministry department proves that Magical Britain is committed to upholding and exploiting the heteronormative family structure as an organising principle of society, and that the only ethical and justice-promoting action is to embrace queer ways of living that challenge and decentralise the power inherent in the institution of marriage, the medicomagical treatment of reproduction, and the necessary failure of the capitalist state to support the dignity of life across the full spectrum of human flourishing.</p><p>Harry, though he agrees in principle, finds it difficult to match his son's fervor, and at this point tends to look for someone with whom to share a Knowing Look. </p><p>None of this was said in the corridor of St Mungo's, but it was contextual knowledge to all present. <sup> [ <a href="#return3">return to text</a> ]</sup></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Summer 2037</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I got stymied writing this chapter, because I realized I needed to re-plot the second half of the fic. The good news is—I figured it out! Thank you to everyone who talked it through with me. This is the end of Part One.</p><p>I hope everyone is doing alright one year into this panorama. Things are good in my house—for some reason one of my kids has taken to following everything up with, "Everything is awful in this cruel, cruel world." So that's added a fun vibe to the house.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry fell asleep peacefully with Draco's arm thrown over his torso; they'd talk about it in the morning. </p><p>He'd wake up and kiss the morning-obscenities out of Draco's mouth. He'd tell Draco how much he'd been repressing his desire, how much he'd been trying to pretend that they weren't…. He wasn't entirely sure how to end that sentence. To pretend that they weren't a couple, that they weren't falling in love, that they weren't married. </p><p>No. Not that. That they weren't <em>family.</em></p><p>Because Harry was an adult. And adults talked about things like this.</p><p>Problem was, Harry awoke not to the sound of his alarm, or to the morning hazy feeling of a body stirring next to him, but to the commotion of Draco launching himself out of bed ("Mother<em>fucker</em>!") to answer a Floo call. Harry blinked. An <em>early </em>Floo call. 5:15am. In the bedroom Floo, which only their children had access to, and which they never used because they worried about accidentally…. Which could only mean—</p><p>Harry gasped, sitting upright. "Is the baby okay?" He jumped out of bed, tripping over the shoes they'd left haphazard on the floor last night. He fell, catching himself before he hit the floor but slammed his thigh on the night table. "Fuck!"</p><p>"Scorpius?" Draco said, his voice becoming drawlier in a manner that Harry now knew revealed anxiety—something in Draco's subconscious apparently thought the pedigree might help any anxiety-inducing situation. To be fair, that was true most times—blast this unfair world.</p><p>"Draco!" Albus's face. A baby wailing in the background. Albus's <em>extremely tired </em>face. "We're fine, it's just—"</p><p>"What?"</p><p>Harry hobbled to the fireplace, rubbing his leg. "Al? What do you need?"</p><p>"She will not stop crying! We have the milk perfect—you know we took a class in that, just like Potions, no big deal—but she won't drink it. Is she going to hate us forever because we only have useless man nipples? We're trying to do the swaddle charm they showed us at St Mungo's, but it is not working at all; her arms keep popping out the top! And the nappy!" He paused, inhaling. "We've been home for like, what, twelve hours? And I'm convinced there's faeces on every surface of our flat. Why did they let us take her home? She isn't even <em>our </em>baby and they <em>let us take her</em> and now—"</p><p>"That's enough of that talk, Albus," Draco said, his voice sharp. "She <em>is</em> your baby, and every parent in the world has felt that exact way. I would worry if you didn't. That you feel this way proves your induction into parenthood. Second—"</p><p>Draco trailed off, stood, and wandered out of the bedroom, leaving Harry and Albus blinking after him.</p><p>Harry dropped to his left knee, still rubbing his right. "Okay Al, listen, first things first. If a baby doesn't stop crying when you've tried milk and nappy and whatever else, strip them naked and make sure there's nothing going on that you couldn't see—like a hair wrapped around their finger or something." Harry had once been traumatised by a photo of a "hair tourniquet"; it haunted him, which had the benefit of meaning he would never forget.</p><p>Albus's face turned halfway out of the fire and he shouted, "Strip her!"</p><p>Scorpius's voice floated back, "What?"</p><p>"STRIP HER DOWN!"</p><p>"That's the first time I've ever heard you say that!" Scorpius teased.</p><p>"Piss off!"</p><p>Harry smiled—glad the tiredness hadn't stolen their senses of humor. "Has she taken <em>any</em> of the milk you offered?" </p><p>Albus turned to Harry. "No, she won't—she pushes it right out of her mouth with her tongue! What the fuck, right? Like, come on Aster, you need to eat to live!"</p><p>The door to the bedroom—which had already been open—flew open farther still, hitting the wall with force. It didn't bounce back, though, just stayed open against the wall—Draco must've slammed it open with magic. </p><p>He walked through the open door, wand raised, followed by a parade of objects, including a variety of nappies, clothes, and something that might be a swing. Lorraine, carrying a teetering pile of bottles, brought up the rear.</p><p>"Albus," Draco said, beyond Albus's view, "come through."</p><p>A moment later, Albus emerged in his pyjamas—boxer shorts and a faded Hellebore t-shirt.</p><p>Harry tried to pull him in for a hug, but Albus stared at Draco and his phalanx of baby paraphernalia. </p><p>"What—"</p><p>Draco held up a hand. "I happen to be in possession of these items, which I am happy to offer you. Lorraine?"</p><p>The elf, who was wearing a ruffly nightgown, stepped forward, thrusting the bottles and nipples towards Albus. </p><p>"Twenty different brands of bottles and nipples, both magical and Muggle. Babies are finicky, sometimes they like the shape of one over the others. Try that and hopefully she'll take the milk."</p><p>Albus, somewhat dumbstruck, took the bottles. </p><p>"These are different types of magical nappies—ideally one will fit perfectly and be comfortable for her." Draco stepped aside as the nappies soared into the green flames of the fire. "This is a charmed swaddle—the blanket is charmed. Works way better than charming a non-magical blanket. This is a swing that will sense her state of alertness and change its movements depending on whether she's trying to fall asleep, in REM sleep, in deep sleep, etc." </p><p>Five minutes later, Draco had finished his explanation of the uses of the different items. Albus loaded the baby gear into the Floo-ready fire and hollered, "The Snake Pit!" The flames whooshed, and the stuff disappeared.</p><p>Harry stepped back, looking between Draco and Albus, amused. Was Albus going to be mad that Draco had bought all this stuff? Harry hoped the large space he had just put between himself and Draco would signal his non-involvement in the purchasing.</p><p>Albus stepped forward, wrapped Draco in a hug, and squeezed. "Thank you. No wonder Astoria said to Floo you!"</p><p>Draco stiffened. "You went to her first, then?"</p><p>"Scorp did," Albus confirmed. "Don't take it personally. You know how it is—sometimes you just want your mum. I think she was the worst grandparent to call, though."</p><p>At that, Draco snorted. "Indeed. Astoria did not love infancy. She much preferred spending time with Scorpius once he was older."</p><p>Albus rubbed his eye, stumbling a bit. "I don't think it was that—she said she isn't the type to micromanage their adult child. Okay, I need to get back. Thanks again, Draco. Thanks, Dad." </p><p>Harry shooed him through the Floo, heart constricting when the sounds of Aster's cries reached their ears through the connection.</p><p>"Poor sods," Draco said, his words at odds with the fond look on his face. Apparently they were going to ignore Astoria's commentary on Draco's parenting.</p><p>Harry laughed, crossing his arms over his chest. "I've never felt as inept as I did when we brought James home. No wait, that's a lie. I definitely felt more inept during the war. Facing Voldemort as a teenager will do that to you."</p><p>Draco shuddered. "He had a way of making everyone around him feel inept, didn't he."</p><p>Harry wrinkled his nose. "Let's not talk about that. We're supposed to be enjoying Aster."</p><p>There was a pause, and for the first time, Harry thought about last night. He'd wanted to wake up still tangled up with Draco. He'd wanted to start a mumbling discussion about their relationship in the half-awake haze of morning. This seemed more awkward, somehow, but needs must. "Draco, I—"</p><p>The Floo roared; Scorpius stepped through. "Dad. Thanks for the stuff, but how on earth do you use this thing?" He held up an inscrutable piece of fabric.</p><p>"I'd better come through," Draco said, casting an apologetic glance at Harry.</p><p>"Go, go!" Harry said. "Help the parent noobs! I can bring over some breakfast in a bit?"</p><p>Scorpius flung his long arms around Harry's neck and squeezed. "Breakfast! You truly are the Saviour, Harry!"</p><p>Harry huffed a laugh into Scorpius's fine hair, patting his back. "For this, I'll accept the nickname. See you soon."</p><p>He watched as the green flames ushered them out, then looked around the empty bedroom. He started putting away the clothes strewn on the floor.</p><p>
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</p><p>The thing about conversations was that once you didn't have them, they got harder and harder to initiate.</p><p>Harry was an <em>adult</em>. He was a <em>grandfather</em>, for goodness' sake! He was the type of person who talked about things when they came up, because he knew how shitty things got when you didn't. </p><p>But their days had been so busy—the baby, the press hubbub over Harry's departure from DMLE, Parvati and Lavender wanting to talk about PR, Draco neck-deep in writing an op-ed for the <em>Prophet</em>. Harry and Draco were both so exhausted they kept falling asleep on the sofa—both at their house and at Albus and Scorpius's house. Albus and Scorpius's sofa had become his second bed.</p><p>Or maybe he was making excuses. Maybe all those things wouldn't stop Harry from talking to Draco if he really wanted to. Maybe Harry was nervous. <em>Oh hey, we had sex, let's talk about it because we're already married but we thought that was fake so like, is this like, orgasms of convenience or evidence of a change in our relationship? </em>It was hard to think of a more awkward way to start a conversation.</p><p>To be fair to himself, Harry thought, Draco hadn't mentioned it either. And neither of them had tried to initiate a repeat performance, either. Although Harry had thought about it. It had been so good, so easy. Of course he wanted to do it again. He just wasn't sure what <em>Draco</em> wanted. And it made his skin crawl to think about starting a conversation only for Draco to tell him, "No, I just want to be married. I don't want to have sex. I don't want to be in a relationship with you." Would it even be fair to put Draco in that position, by bringing it up?</p><p>Every time he thought about it, he groaned and squirmed. So he kept trying not to think about it.</p><p>
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</p><p>For some reason, Harry and Draco had agreed to babysit at 5am. Harry couldn't remember why—something about the boys having to work and needing to get some sleep before they could Apparate without the risk of Splinching—but here they were, sitting in Albus and Scorpius's flat at sunrise with Aster, while the boys got a few hours sleep in the bedroom.</p><p>Draco sat at the table, surrounded by papers and books. Two books Levitated in front of him, open to specific pages. Harry walked laps around the room with Aster.</p><p>At five weeks old, Aster seemed more human and less aquatic. She made eye contact and imitated facial expressions, and Harry was beyond smitten. Aster was the first baby with whom he didn't have to worry about rushing off to work, which made him a little sad about his own children's infancies. He could never go back and be free for <em>their</em> first weeks.</p><p>"How's it coming?" Harry asked Draco. Then he turned to Aster and said, "Yes!" He booped her nose. "Let's ask Poppop how it's coming!"</p><p>Draco turned with a supremely unimpressed look. "Do not call me 'Poppop.'"</p><p>"Oh, I almost forgot! Silly me!" Harry made a shocked face at the baby, and she tilted her head, curious. "Your grandfather is all posh and has Norman lineage! We should call him Grand-père!"</p><p>Draco elected to ignore this.</p><p>Harry pulled out his phone, fumbling it as he held the baby.</p><p>"It's coming okay," Draco said with a sigh. "It's complicated. How do I write about the problem with Rump's decriminalisation of love potions and lust objects without making it seem like I care about this issue more than other issues, for example? Who are you texting?"</p><p>"No one," Harry said as he pressed <em>send</em> on a message to Fleur. "Don't you think people already know that you care about other issues? I mean, doesn't your record prove that? It's just that right now you're talking about this one thing."</p><p>Aster reached for the phone with a wet hand. Harry moved the phone out of her range and pretended to munch on her fingers instead. She curled her fingers into his cheek, and his heart clenched with an expansive, overwhelming sort of love.</p><p>"The problem is that this is a feminist issue and I don't want to make it seem like I care only about cis women."</p><p>"Just get the boys to check it for you. Or better yet, get Teddy to do it for you. Teddy's the expert on everything non-binary."</p><p>"You're right." Draco dragged a hand through his hair, then looked away from his work. He stood, reaching for the baby. "My turn."</p><p>Harry let Draco pull Aster out of his arms and sat in the armchair, glancing at his phone. "Fleur says you should go by 'Pépère.'"</p><p>Draco made a face, then turned to the baby. "Was your grandpa telling you terrible things about me?" She grabbed his finger and started chewing on it. "It's very important that you never listen to anything bad he says about me. Because I will be the one to tell you all the terrible things I've done, when you're old enough to understand. But you mustn't take Grandpa Harry's word for it. He'll tell you tall tales; he'll twist stories all around. He'll try to tell you that a hippogriff didn't maim me, for example. Which it did."</p><p>Harry snorted. He would never get over his amusement at Draco talking seriously and with his posh accent to an infant, his equal partner in the conversation.</p><p>Draco put his free hand on the back of Aster's head and pulled her cheek to his chest, rocking back and forth. He looked at Harry. "The thing is, love potions and objects are overwhelmingly used against women and non-cis men. So it <em>is</em> a feminist issue. So it's not transphobic to say that. Is it? Clearly love potions are terrible no matter whom they are inflicted upon, but they are usually inflicted upon people who aren't cis men." </p><p>Aster flung her face into Draco's chest, rooting for a nipple. Poor child was forever trying to find human nipples to suck, and with no success. It was worst with Ginny. It was like Aster could sense that those tits had nourished three babies.</p><p>"Of course not," Harry said. "As long as you use inclusive language, right?"</p><p>Draco yelped as Aster attempted to latch through his shirt. "This is linen, little miss!" He guided her head away and stuck his finger in her mouth for her to chomp. "Can you get the bottle ready?"</p><p>Harry nodded and headed over to the kitchen, Draco following behind.</p><p>"I am using inclusive language, of course, since love potions and objects <em>can </em>be used on anyone. But less than 2% of cis wizards have reported being sexually assaulted, compared to over 20% of cis witches and 47—47%!—of trans witches and non-binary wix. So this is an issue where violence is being perpetrated <em>on the basis of gender</em>!"</p><p>Harry poured the milk potion into a bottle and hit it with a warming charm. He tested the temperature with a mumbled, "<em>Caliditas</em>," at which a shimmery 37° appeared in the air. Harry turned to Draco, a huge smile on his face, "Did you see that? I am a master at warming charms for bottles."</p><p>"Congratulations," Draco said, dripping with sarcasm.</p><p>"Yeah, I know. I guess you just make that clear right at the beginning of the op-ed. Like, these are the stakes." Harry screwed on the nipple and handed the bottle to Draco.</p><p>Draco reclined Aster, her head nuzzled in his right elbow, and raised the bottle to her mouth. Once she started suckling, he turned back to Harry. "Yes, you're right. Alright. I think I'm already doing that, but I'll double check."</p><p>Harry leaned his hip against the counter. "I just don't understand <em>why </em>someone would want to decriminalise weapons of sexual assault! Like! What!?"</p><p>Draco sighed, looking at Aster. "Because he's an evil fucking devilman?"</p><p>"Can't believe I am one of only 2% of cis wizards," Harry mused.</p><p>Draco's head snapped up. "Harry."</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"Is this your casual way of telling me you've been sexually assaulted? Like the time you mentioned off-hand that you'd spent years living locked in a cupboard?"</p><p>Harry waved his hand, dismissing it. "I've been the target of love potions since…let's see…sixteen? That's the earliest time I know of, anyway. For the <em>most</em> part they never get through to me. I've only actually <em>consumed</em> them twice. And neither time I consumed a love potion ended in sex, so that'd be classified as 'attempted sexual assault,' which is included in that 2% of cis wizards you mentioned, right?"</p><p>Draco nodded. "I didn't—I didn't know. How are you not more paranoid about it? You don't seem to worry when you eat or drink in public."</p><p>Harry shrugged. "It's just my life. It died down ages ago, thank goodness. I guess the appeal of banging the Saviour lessens with age." Draco's face was inscrutable. "I can't let it stop me from living my life, you know? Hermione also put a bezoar into a special pocket in my wallet, just in case. I should probably show you where that is, because it's people around me who are lucid enough to intervene, in the worst case scenarios."</p><p>"Yes <em>maybe </em>you should show me where the item is that might be needed to save your life. Perhaps. If it's convenient for you."</p><p>Harry rolled his eyes.</p><p>Draco's face took on a new determination. "I think the op-ed might be drafted by this weekend. Will you read over what I wrote about consent and see if it makes sense? Trying to argue with Rump's people is like trying to translate ancient runes for a bunch of monkeys throwing faeces at you."</p><p>Harry grinned. "Sure."</p><p>
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</p><p>Draco was still cursing at his alarm ("Cunting <em>mongoose </em>fucker!") when Harry grabbed his phone and thumbed through his messages. As usual, horrifying news alerts ("Three wizards apprehended by DMLE officers for using an Egyptian spell in Diagon Alley; Dennis Creevey says—"), weather updates, a vaguely disturbing update from the AstroDiv app that Lily had installed ("Today Mars leaves a difficult aspect pattern, but you haven't accepted that your emotional satisfaction is your responsibility"). A message from Lily.</p><p>He frowned at his phone. "Lily wants me to go with her to St Mungo's."</p><p>Draco sat up. "Is she okay?"</p><p>"Yeah!" Harry said, trying to reassure either Draco or himself not to worry. "Well, no. I mean, she's fine. But, she has a lot of pain, so it's not <em>okay</em>. It's—" He waved his hand indistinctly at his abdomen. "Uterus. She has endometriosis."</p><p>Draco frowned. Harry imagined he had little knowledge of female reproductive health. "So how do they cure it?"</p><p>Harry sighed. "They can't. They give her these potions that can vanish the endometrial tissue, but they can only do that in the office, and they can't make it stop coming back."</p><p>"Why is she asking you to go now?" Draco asked, looking deeply suspicious—like Lily was in grave danger and Harry was keeping it from him. "She's never asked you to go before. Did something happen?"</p><p>"She says they don't take her seriously when she goes alone. Usually Gin goes, but she had to cancel." He met Draco's eye. "She says that when I go, all the Healers act like star-struck sycophants. But if she goes alone, they ignore everything she says. So I guess sycophants is better. Sycophantness? Sycophantation?"</p><p>"Sycophancy," Draco supplied. "Alright. Do you want me to come?"</p><p>"Draco," Harry said, amused. "I don't need moral support. I <em>am</em> the moral support. And you have work."</p><p>Draco sighed. "Fine. Ask Lily if she wants me to make her any potions."</p><p>"She has access to an Apothecary, you know."</p><p>"Well I can probably make those potions better than they can! I am an excellent potioneer!"</p><p>Harry stared at him. "Yes. And you're also a solicitor, and a politician, and overbooked, <em>and</em> you haven't made potions in years, as far as I can see. I will tell Lils you're thinking about her."</p><p>Draco looked miffed as Harry wandered to the closet to dress. A few minutes later, Harry turned, holding his hands out. "Is this good? Do I look like Concerned Father Harry?"</p><p>Draco, amused, nodded. "You've looked like Concerned Father Harry since 2004."</p><p>
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</p><p>After Lily's appointment (which went fine, though she'd caught Harry's eye a few times in anger over something the Healer said), they stopped at a coffee shop around the corner from St Mungo's to fortify themselves with sugary, caramel-drizzled caffeine. </p><p>"Have you seen Aster smile yet?" Lily asked as they settled down at a table. "I swear, I melted when she smiled at me. I've never felt so special in my whole life."</p><p>Harry grinned, recalling last week. There was something about that first smile; if its effect could be distilled into a drug, it'd be illegal. "Only thing better was your first smile, Lily-boo."</p><p>Lily rolled her eyes through a smile. Harry wasn't kidding, though. He didn't have favourites between his kids, but the memory of Lily's first smile stood out. Harry remembered being in a haze of sleep deprivation and toddler discipline and stepping on toy dragons, giving Lily a bottle, and she looked up at him with her wispy red hair and reached out for his face with her little hand and smiled at him. He'd cried. Well, he'd <em>wept.</em></p><p>Being a parent was weird.</p><p>"It's hard to imagine her growing up," Lily mused. "And I'm her only aunt, not even a parent! But still, that's like, a big responsibility, Dad. I need to be cool enough that she wants to hang out with me, and approachable enough that she can ask me about periods and stuff when Al and Scorp scare the pants off her with their over-preparation and, I dunno, visual aids."</p><p>Harry snorted, spraying caramel foam on his nose. "You have nothing to worry about. And I can confirm it will be a mind-trip watching her grow up. Sometimes I forget that you're grown, and you're in your twenties."</p><p>"Hey," she said, wagging a finger. "I'm twenty-nine in a few weeks. Surely that counts as 'almost thirty.'" Lily told anyone who would listen that she couldn't wait to be "a crone."</p><p>Harry clutched his chest. "My baby is almost thirty! How can this be? However shall I—"</p><p>She smacked his arm, laughing, but then turned pensive. "Do you think I should've, you know, done <em>more</em> by now?"</p><p>Harry frowned. He hoped Lily knew he didn't expect any so-called "accomplishments" from her. He reached across the table, tilting her face towards him. "Hey, what? Of course not! You've done so much, and even if you hadn't, who cares? You don't need to <em>do </em>things to have a fulfilling life."</p><p>She dismissed him with a wave of her hand. "I know, but like. What if I decide I want a baby and I have a hard time getting pregnant? You had James when you were, what, 24? You and Mum were like, so much more grown-up then than I feel now."</p><p>Harry leaned forward. "And thank <em>Merlin </em>for that. We only seemed 'grown-up' because we were veterans, Lil. You know that. That's not what we would ever want for you. But really, what's all this talk? Usually you know exactly what you want from life and let no one else question it."</p><p>She leaned her cheek into her hand. "It's Nico, I think."</p><p>Harry bristled, mind jumping to all the worst conclusions. Nico, pressuring Lily to get married or to have a baby. Nico, making Lily abandon her dreams. "What about him?"</p><p>"Nothing, I—everything is good with him! He just—I don't know. We need to make decisions about how much we want our lives to tangle together." She paused, fiddling with her cup. "He's finishing his yoga teacher training, you know, and we both have jobs—are we going to move in together? When he's searching for better jobs, does he apply in other cities or not? Do I consider going with him? It's just—you know. Life."</p><p>"That's a lot," Harry said, using all his will to prevent himself from offering any opinions. </p><p>"How did you <em>know</em>?" she asked, looking up at Harry with her big brown eyes. "You seemed so certain."</p><p>Harry blinked, unprepared for this to turn to questions about him. "With Draco?"</p><p>"No, with your other husband."</p><p>"Har har. Well, er." Harry let his eyes wander away, trying to figure out how on earth to answer the question. Should he answer according to when he admitted to himself how much he liked Draco? According to their official story? How could he answer his child with a story based on a lie? What kind of person was he?! He took a deep breath. "I think it's like—one day you look up and realise that your lives already <em>are </em>tangled. That's what family is, right? You're all tangled up and you choose to keep tangled."</p><p>Lily frowned. "That's not very romantic."</p><p>Harry shrugged, remembering Draco sitting at the table talking about how it wasn't a lie that they were family. "Isn't it, though? I mean, you build it. If you didn't work together, it wouldn't work. But if it does—you keep building."</p><p>"No," Lily said, with jarring brusqueness. "No way. That's way too passive. I know you—you wouldn't be happy with that. You're a Gryffindor, Dad. You want to <em>choose</em>, you want to be <em>chosen</em>."</p><p>Harry unleashed a dramatic groan. "Don't use the word 'chosen' with me!"</p><p>"I'm serious, Dad. You don't have to tell me, whatever. I know I'm your kid and it's a little strange. I'm just saying, I know you—and I'm <em>sure</em> it wasn't like that. I see the way you look at him. There's no way you 'just looked up one day and realised.'" She punctuated this with a long sip of her drink, staring at him over the brim.</p><p>Harry said nothing, eyes dropping to his coffee.</p><p>"I don't know, Dad," she said. "I guess I just need to figure out how it is I look at him. <em>Do </em>I look at him the way you look at Draco? I don't know. Maybe I should get someone to record me so I can look at my face."</p><p>Harry laughed, though he felt a bit sick. "Don't use other people's relationships as a measure of your own. It doesn't work that way, and even if it did, there's no way for you to see inside someone else's relationship to make the comparison, anyway."</p><p>Lily sighed, then quickly moved on to discuss a new charm she was developing—it was meant to Vanish pollutants from waterways, though she was struggling to get the charm to target contaminated sediment as well as contaminants in the water.</p><p>Most times, Harry had no trouble paying attention to discussion of Lily's charms, but at the moment, all he could think about was the way Lily's faith in his and Draco's relationship made him feel like the toxic sludge at the bottom of one of Lily's contaminated rivers.</p><p>
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</p><p>Teddy sat at the table, papers spread in front of him, holding a sparkling purple quill.</p><p>Harry walked over, set a butterbeer to Teddy's left and took a seat. </p><p>Teddy looked up, grinning. "Draco was worrying about this for no reason—it doesn't seem at all transphobic to me. I mean, it's not like I'm some kind of arbiter for the entire trans and non-binary community, but this makes perfect sense."</p><p>Harry smiled. "Oh, good. That's what I thought, but better to check."</p><p>Teddy took a sip of his butterbeer. "It can be true that binary gender is a bullshit myth <em>and</em> that, in our current society, in which we believe that myth and give it power, gender does make a difference. Sexual assault is a gendered issue, even if it need not be."</p><p>"You're good at explaining this stuff," Harry said, leaning on one elbow. "You must tire of listening to us old folks, when you're used to the openness of teenagers."</p><p>Teddy laughed. He worked at an LGBTQ organisation that worked to improve the social, political, and legal position of queer wix in Britain; he'd been teaching a unit on sexuality and gender to sixth- and seventh-year Hogwarts students every spring for the past seven years or so.</p><p>"I dunno," Teddy said. "Sometimes I worry the students try to make it all <em>too </em>neat. At least you and the other 'old folks' understand the messiness of it all."</p><p>Harry frowned. "What do you mean, messiness?" He didn't particularly like the idea of queer issues being "messy."</p><p>Teddy's hair slowly morphed from neon pink to a deep blue. "I don't know, it's like—none of these issues have any clear-cut rules or definitions or policies. It's easiest for me to explain just using examples of me. Like, I can morph my body to look like whatever I want, right? Any parts. I could change my biology every day. Does that make me trans? It's certainly a different experience than a trans person who isn't a metamorphmagus, but is it roughly the same like, category? How could we ever answer that? It's messy. What if I'm in a relationship with a cis man and every time I'm with him, my body is female? Is that a heterosexual relationship? Or like, it's queer for me because I'm always queer no matter what—but what about for that bloke. Is he queer now? We use all these labels because they're amazing and they help people and establish that we have <em>identities</em> that are <em>fundamental</em>, but at the same time, no label can really encompass the cacophony of the human experience, you know? It's just messy, and I think that the more we embrace that, the better off we are. It doesn't have to be neat."</p><p>Harry, smiling, stared at Teddy. Teddy was too smart for him, at least in this type of abstract thought. "That makes sense, Teds. I guess I know what you mean. I remember Draco saying that he considers himself bi, but the papers always call him gay because he hasn't been with women recently."</p><p>Teddy nodded, his intensity growing. "Yes! Exactly! People who are invested in the gender and sexuality binaries can handle people being gay or straight—because those orientations both assume the binary. But if someone is bi or pan or queer, that assumes a <em>spectrum</em>—their entire worldview is challenged! So much easier to just pretend that bi people don't exist, right?"</p><p>Harry shook his head. "People suck. Also, I kind of hate the labels. That makes me old, doesn't it? I don't want to use any of them."</p><p>Teddy smiled indulgently. "But that's the beauty of it! You don't have to use any labels if you don't want! You can use 'queer' as an umbrella term, or you can just say that you don't want to force your desires into categories! That's what I mean about embracing the messiness!"</p><p>Harry wrinkled his nose. "Well yeah, I don't need to label. But I <em>do</em> need to know what I want."</p><p>Teddy laughed loudly as he stood up and patted Harry on the back. "Pretty sure you know what you want, Harry. Tall, blond, name starts with a D and ends with a raco."</p><p>As Teddy made for  the kitchen, Harry only just suppressed a dramatic groan. It wasn't a great feeling to have no idea what you want, but to have everyone around you think you know <em>exactly </em>what you want.</p><p>
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</p><p>The house was empty, and Harry was spiraling. </p><p>Lorraine, who would have brought tea if she saw Harry in this state, was on her day off. Draco was at work—arguing a case—so he wasn't on his mobile. </p><p>Harry refreshed the news again. He <em>knew </em>he shouldn't, but he couldn't stop himself. </p><p>
  <em>Auror Dieter Smith (38) arrested by MLE officers; Smith being investigated after hexing a teenage wizard wearing traditional Egyptian robes. Head of DMLE Persephone Diggle drew attention to the alleged conduct of the teenager. "From the limited Pensieve that I have seen, I was appalled by the actions of those community members that attacked my officers," she said. "I am thankful that they were not seriously injured."</em>
</p><p>"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," Harry said, flopping onto his back on the sofa. </p><p>Harry understood the dangerous tendencies of law enforcement better than most. He had worked at the DMLE for over thirty years, but his job had never made him numb to the dangers of the profession. <em>He</em> could never forget. He remembered the officers at his Wizengamot trial when he was fifteen years old—standing at the ready, should they need to drag Harry away. He remembered Pius Thicknesse, when Head of DMLE, under Imperius Curse, doing Voldemort's bidding, no one questioning him because of his position. He remembered when Yaxley was the Head of the DMLE. </p><p>Harry was Undesirable No. 1. </p><p>There was something about seeing your name on a wanted poster like that—you didn't forget it. </p><p>He never forgot the people who had previously held his position included not only Amelia Bones, but also Corban Yaxley.</p><p>When Harry was an Auror, Head Auror, Head of DMLE, he'd put enormous effort into working against abuses of power. He single-handedly instituted de-escalation training, Muggle and Squib sensitivity training, Dark Magic recognition training for all officers, multicultural spell awareness training, Poverty Is Not A Crime Week, Being a Creature Does Not Constitute Probable Cause Week, and many others. He'd written dozens of policies that encoded proper channels of authority in ways that would minimise power over-steps.</p><p>And now, just a few months after he quit (slash was sacked), with a fascist in power, he was <em>at home</em>, he was <em>unemployed</em>, and the entire DMLE was falling apart: an Auror arrested for abuse of power, Persephone Diggle talking around the issue.</p><p>How could he <em>not </em>think this was his fault? He knew that everyone—Hermione, Draco, his kids, Ginny, his old therapist—would tell him he couldn't be held responsible for things like this. But Harry also knew that was just what people said. It was like when everyone had told him it wasn't his fault Sirius had died. Harry had never been sure what definition other people used for "blame." But he knew what <em>blame </em>meant to himself. And, well.</p><p>This had never happened when he was in charge. Everyone knew that behaviour like this wasn't tolerated under Harry Potter—and because he was <em>Harry Potter</em>, they didn't grumble about it too much.</p><p>Now, though. He'd known Persephone was too willing to go along with whatever Rump demanded. Too willing to follow the rules. She didn't realise that it was less about following the rules and more about making the right ones.</p><p>A <em>ding</em> sounded from the clock on the side table, and Harry's attention drew away from his despondence.</p><p>Last Christmas, Harry had gifted Draco a clock like the Weasley's, which showed everyone's locations. It looked different than the Weasley's—it was a modern silver clock with shimmering hands—but the same idea. Harry had given it to Draco with hands for Draco, Harry, and Scorpius, but Draco had soon filled it with hands for Harry's kids and for some of his friends, as well. The chime indicated Draco had left "courtroom" and entered "office." Within about five seconds, it dinged again and changed to "traveling." </p><p>The Floo roared as the clock dinged a third time. "Harry?"</p><p>Harry, still on his back, looked up at the ceiling. "In here."</p><p>A moment later, a scuffle, and Draco kneeled behind him, leaning forward. "Are you okay? I <em>just</em> heard—I'd been in court—"</p><p>"I'm wallowing," Harry grumbled, looking up at Draco's upside-down face. "I'm beating myself up. I'm doing what my therapist used to call <em>personalisation</em>."</p><p>There was a strange look on Draco's face that Harry didn't think was because of his upsidedownness. He looked—sad. </p><p>Draco reached out a hand and placed it on Harry's cheek. "It's not your fault, you insufferable Gryffindor." His thumb rubbed back and forth over Harry's cheekbone.</p><p>Harry closed his eyes, allowing Draco's touch to soothe. "That's what everyone always says. It has to be a lie at least some of the time."</p><p>Draco pulled his hand away, used it to lightly smack Harry's cheek, then placed it caressingly back, thumb resuming its path. </p><p>Harry opened his eyes. "Hey! What was that for?"</p><p>"<em>I </em>do not tell you that things are not your fault. Other people might, but I do not. If something is your fault, I tell you. Is that not true?"</p><p>"I guess."</p><p>"I am telling you: this isn't your fault. We're playing this ridiculous game of politics—every action has downsides. Even if this did happen because Persephone is head of DMLE now—which we can't know—that doesn't mean that the benefits of your quitting don't outweigh it. You can't beat yourself up every time something bad happens. That way lies misery."</p><p>Harry closed his eyes, letting out a huge exhale. "I spent my <em>whole </em>career trying to weed out and deplatform these power-hungry bullies. And it's not like I thought I had some kind of 'legacy' in the DMLE and that my work will live on forever or something delusional like that. But it's been what, <em>two </em>months!? I wrote <em>policies</em>, Draco! Do you know how much I hate doing that? How much I had to research and do all this work that plays to all my weaknesses? But I did it anyway so that these guidelines would become part of the institution. So that the department would continue to work, no matter who was at the helm."</p><p>Draco leaned down, turning his head and resting his cheek on Harry's forehead. He didn't say anything, or ask Harry to keep talking, which was good, because Harry's throat had constricted.</p><p>Draco smelled like Mysteries. The department, not the concept. Level 9 and the Courtroom under it always had this smell like unusual magic, the ocean, whiffs of Amortentia. Harry could never be sure exactly what it smelled like. </p><p>Harry breathed in deeply, noting the smell of Draco, and tried to breathe out his anxiety. </p><p>Draco pulled his head away, replaced it with his fingers in Harry's hair, scratching the scalp.</p><p>Harry exhaled as tingles prickled through his body. He tried not to moan, because that seemed somewhat inappropriate when someone was merely scratching your head.</p><p>They were so close. Harry could hear Draco's heartbeat. They hadn't been—not since the night Aster was born, not since they'd somehow made the ill-conceived choice not to talk about the fact that they'd joyfully fucked. And now he wasn't sure whether he should melt into Draco's touch or feel awkward about deriving pleasure from it.</p><p>"Draco," he said, "what are you doing?"</p><p>"I'm taking care of you, you prat," Draco said.</p><p>Harry opened his eyes, feeling a pang of guilt. He didn't want his silly overreaction inconveniencing anyone else, causing Draco to perform labour. "You don't have to."</p><p>"I <em>want </em>to," Draco said, twirling his fingers around a clump of hair and <em>tugging </em>just so. "I know you have always had to do everything yourself. I know people haven't taken care of you. Harry takes care of other people. But, believe it or not, it can go in the other direction. It is possible for care to flow <em>from</em> others <em>to</em> Harry."</p><p>Harry clenched his eyes shut, blinking through the emotion that washed over him. Something about how Draco spoke about <em>Harry</em>, about <em>Harry's </em>life, about <em>Harry's </em>personality and tendencies—he wasn't talking about Harry Potter, the Saviour, or Harry Potter, father to James, Albus, and Lily, or Harry Potter, Head of the DMLE.</p><p>"What was it like?" Harry asked.</p><p>"What was what like?"</p><p>Harry sucked in a breath. "Being cared for."</p><p>Draco's hand stilled for a moment, then resumed.</p><p>"I used to try to imagine it," Harry continued, "when my kids were little. What it would be like to be them—I don't know, to make a mistake and get reassured instead of hollered at. But I could never quite imagine it, you know? Like, I knew how to <em>do </em>it, as the parent, but I couldn't really imagine being on the other side of it."</p><p>"It felt safe," Draco said, after a long moment. "It felt sure…certain. The world was knowable. If I scraped my knee, my mother would come, heal it, hug me. If I was sick, I would be cared for—cool hand on hot forehead. If I was upset, I would be listened to. If I was tired, I'd be lulled to sleep."</p><p>He still couldn't imagine. At least not what it would've been like as a child. He could <em>almost</em> imagine what it would be like now, as a 56-year-old man. </p><p>Abruptly, Harry sat up, dislodging Draco's hand. Draco started, like he expected Harry to tell him to go away, but that wasn't Harry's intention—so he reached out and grasped Draco's hand. </p><p>Shit, now he was sitting here <em>holding Draco's hand</em>. Harry needed to start thinking things through.</p><p>"I—" Harry started. "We should've talked about it. I let my…fear, I guess, get in the way. I was all ready to talk about it, but then we got interrupted, and—" Even half finished, getting the words out was a weight off his shoulders.</p><p>"Don't apologise," Draco said, face somewhat stiff. "It's my fault as much as yours—I—"</p><p>Harry searched those silver eyes, trying to figure out what the fuck emotion was going on in Draco's head. But he couldn't reach it. It was something indefinable that Harry could only hope wasn't regret. </p><p>"It doesn't matter that we were stubborn fools," Harry said with insistence, wanting to drag Draco out of the past and into the present. "What matters is whether it was—"</p><p>Harry took a breath, ready to say it, to put it all out there, but in the pause, Draco interrupted.</p><p>"Whether it was good. And it was. The sex was good." Draco's face flashed a cross between attempted sexiness and attempted escape.</p><p>Harry had been going to say "real." He deflated a bit—not that he disagreed with Draco, mind. He huffed a laugh. "Yeah, it was good. But I meant that we're—we're not—it's—"</p><p>Draco met Harry's eyes, and though he said nothing, Harry could see the understanding, the confirmation that this wasn't fake. Not all of it, anyway. But maybe that was the problem—that Harry knew parts of it were real, but he couldn't tell which parts weren't.</p><p>Draco shook his head minutely. "No, we're not—"</p><p>Their mouths met tentatively; unlike the last time, when Harry hadn't been able to stop smiling, this time the emotion he couldn't shake was sadness. "Put your hands back in my hair," Harry whispered, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I need cheering up, after all."</p><p>Draco raised an eyebrow. "And a little scalp massage will cheer you up?"</p><p>"Better than a Cheering Charm," Harry said, pressing his lips beneath Draco's ear. "You're taking care of me, remember?"</p><p>"I'd watch out if I were you," Draco said, his nails scratching a very unthreatening line down Harry's scalp, "because there are two semantic uses of 'to take care of' someone, and I might switch to the other."</p><p>"Mmhmm," Harry said, unconcerned about Draco's words, letting his head fall to Draco's shoulder, losing himself in the feel of Draco's fingers.</p><p>"It's not all up to you, you know," Draco whispered.</p><p>Harry didn't know if Draco meant like, the world, the DMLE, their "relationship," or what.</p><p>"I know the campaign is the most important thing," Harry said, lifting his head, mind returning to unemployment and abuse at the DMLE. "I know that what we did was smart, strategic."</p><p>Draco's face shifted—he looked sad. He looked <em>guilty</em>.</p><p>"Hey," Harry said. "Don't worry. I'm good." He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the wrinkle on Draco's cheek that puckered when he smiled. He met Draco's eyes, doing the Gryffindor thing and just saying it: "I want to have sex again, if you want to. And, to be a hundred percent clear—not just for the sex. This means more to me. <em>You </em>mean more to me than that."</p><p>Draco blinked. The visible sadness had gone. Harry wished he could understand the look on Draco's face, but Draco was too good at keeping it in. Draco could Occlude; hiding emotions was child's play for him. What Harry wanted was for Draco to stop <em>wanting</em> to hide those emotions. </p><p>"You mean everything," Draco said, his eyes shining with something raw—and Harry knew that, whatever Draco was thinking, he was being honest and vulnerable. It made Harry feel consequential, not the way he felt when people fawned over him for the war, but like <em>he</em> was of consequence. Harry hadn't felt that way too many times in his life, outside parenthood.</p><p>But Harry didn't know what Draco <em>meant</em> by "you mean everything" (that could mean anything!)—but they were kissing now, hands on shoulders and Harry trembled with an overflow of emotion or lust or want. </p><p>Harry scooted back onto the sofa, tugging Draco on top of him, and maybe this was all he needed right now—to do something just because he wanted to. Because it felt good, because he liked being looked at the way Draco was looking at him, he liked being touched the way Draco was touching him, he liked having a partner when the partner was Draco. Draco's hands fumbled with Harry's jeans, Harry slipped his fingers under Draco's waistband. Because the rest of it all—the fucked up world outside their walls—could wait.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I love and read all comments, but I have an ADHD inability to respond in any systematic manner. 💜</p><p>Accessibility note: This fic is formatted to be readable to screen readers; if there's a way it could be improved, please let me know.</p><p>Come find me on <a href="https://aibidil.tumblr.com">Tumblr</a>!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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